


DoubleU

by LonelyPsycho, MrsLadyNight



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2020-10-19 03:09:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20650226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LonelyPsycho/pseuds/LonelyPsycho, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsLadyNight/pseuds/MrsLadyNight
Summary: The future geologist, Otabek Altin, meets a nice and quiet guy Yura, but does not have time to exchange phone numbers with him. By chance, they intersect again, only Yura doesn’t recognize Otabek (or pretends that he doesn’t recognize) and appears to have a different name. In addition to the name, he has a completely different line of behavior. Maybe,  they are twins?!





	1. I.

Having adjusted the sunglasses that slid down his nose and having unbuttoned his sweatshirt, Otabek grimaced. The summer in St. Petersburg turned out to be surprisingly warm. “You could even take off your hat and unbutton your jacket,” - the young man smiled at the joke that popped up in his head.

Last week, the weather in Petersburg really struck with its constancy. It hadn’t rained for six days in a row; the sun was hot and unusually shone in the eyes. Otabek even had to borrow his campus's neighbor’s glasses, as he had safely broken his own, that’s why he was tormenting (his neighbor had a huge face, so the frame was not Altin’s size). The glasses constantly slipped on his nose, and they had to be corrected every now and then. Having been tired of that action, Otabek decided that he needed to buy his own protection from the infrequent sun and sat down on a bench in the park, put his head on the back of that bench and closed his eyes. There were still forty minutes before meeting his friend, so the guy could afford to sit on a bench like that and breathe in fresh air.

Five minutes later, after a lazy half-nap Otabek Altin opened his eyes and never regretted it. Opposite him a very handsome boy was sitting and enthusiastically reading a book, chewing on a ginger man. The gingerbread man was lying next to the guy on a piece of parchment, and the boy was breaking off pieces from the "little man" with beautiful fingers and putting those pieces into an equally beautiful mouth.

In general, Beck usually liked slightly different guys: athletic, tall, courageous. No, the guy sitting opposite did not look like a feminine diva at all. His features were soft and smooth. He balanced on the very border of androgyny, but he never crossed it. There was predominantly more youthful grace and a little something of an elf in him. His growth was about one hundred seventy-seventy-two centimeters. You couldn’t call him broad-shouldered and fit, but not quite a board either. Elegant and miniature, not slim-jim. Dressed in the latest fashion: skinny jeans, bare ankles, a checkered shirt, and a leather fitted jacket. The hair is light golden almost to the shoulders and looks soft. The way he was brushing off the naughty light strands, persistently tickling the upturned nose, made Otabek want to go up and tuck them by the ears, having held his hand on a beautiful chin.

Otabek was incredibly happy with the presence of uncomfortable glasses then, which perfectly concealed his gaze, having clung to the boy sitting opposite.

He desperately wanted to introduce himself. But the wrong country went to Altin in order to tempt fate like that. Of course, in cities like St. Petersburg, minorities lived a little easier than residents of small towns; Beka knew for sure, because he himself had moved to study to St. Petersburg from such a small and completely intolerant city in Kazakhstan. But even in St. Petersburg, just for no reason, it would be a rather risky adventure to stick a guy in the afternoon. Of course, it was unlikely that boy would have rushed at Beck with his fists, well, if he had rushed, then, most likely, he had not done much damage. Otabek, himself, however, did not have large forms and was far from his own ideals, but he looked a little taller, a little larger. A little is the truest word. And yet, the mood in the case of the error could be spoiled specifically. That’s why he preferred dating with the help of the network (although even there you could easily run into trouble). But Altin did not want to let go the guy sitting opposite and completely not paying attention to him at all. And Beka began to identify the young man for the presence of any special identification marks.

In fact, all those signs, like a ring on the thumb, earrings in the right ear and so on, also did not always work. But at least they were some clues. To Altin's disappointment, he did not find any similar signs. He was already beginning to think of some reason for a dialogue, such as “how to get to the Hermitage,” when suddenly the guy took out a cigarette with a lighter and tried to smoke, but the lighter did not want to work in any way. Having rejoiced that fate was on his side; Otabek went up to the guy and held out matches.

\- Oh, thank you! - The young man said, grabbing the box. - I haven't used matches for a hundred years.

\- Sometimes they are more reliable, - Beka answered, sitting down next to him.

The guy returned the box and smiled, looking at Altin fairly appreciatively. It seemed that a pretty blonde was in the theme.

\- Yura, - said the young man, holding out his hand.

\- Otabek, well, you can call me “Beck”.

Now Otabek had the opportunity not only to admire Yura’s beautiful hands, but also to touch them, let it be only a few seconds. In addition to long fingers, Jura was the owner of large green eyes with thick, lush, though light eyelashes, which were also long. Otabek wondered if Yura’s everything was long. Having smiled at the vulgarity that surfaced in his head, Beka recovered himself. The silence dragged on, and if he did not say anything, he might miss that handsome boy.

\- Today it is surprisingly sunny, - he said, finally, without inventing anything smarter.

\- Yeah, - Yura agreed and began to snap his fingers.

Heck! Well, why is he so taciturn?!

\- What are you reading? - Otabek made a second attempt. - Just do not answer: "book."

Yura smiled charmingly again.

\- I really read the book, - he laughed out loud. - This is Hemingway. Need to read for literature exam.

\- What are you studying for?

\- Most likely for a worker at McDuck.

\- You’re philologist, aren’t you?

\- Exactly!

The guys laughed. They chatted a bit about studying. Altin said that he studied at the Geological Institute, where he also worked part time at the department, doing one or the other. To become a geologist had been his dream since childhood, one of favorite pastimes was, of course, an expedition. Yura turned out to be at a philological faculty, because he still did not know what he wanted to do. He liked to read books, and in their department that, to put it mildly, was welcomed. The guys' conversation was interrupted by a phone call. Otabek's friend called, whom he was supposed to meet. The girl was already looming on the horizon, frantically waving her hand.

\- Okay, I have to go, - Yura said, quickly grabbing his things. - Thanks for the matches.

\- Not at all, - answered Otabek, looking at the approaching friend.

And only when Yura disappeared into the underpass, did Altin realize that they had not exchanged phone numbers.

\- Damn, Sarah! You're not in time, - he groaned in response to the dark-haired girl’s greeting.

\- And I'm glad to see you, - she snorted.

\- I have been distracted by you and missed such a guy!

\- Well, if he really is the same, then you will still meet him, - Sarah said thoughtfully.

\- Oh, please, let it be without these your favorite predictions of fate. I'm not a romantic. And I do not believe in “THE SAME.” But I would like to drag him into bed, - said Otabek irritably.

\- Is he really a tall broad-shouldered brunette? - asked Sarah, crafty squinting, having adjusted her glasses in a massive round frame.

Her vision was the worst one, so she did not have time to see charming Yura before he had hastily washed off.

\- No, - the guy sighed. - A slender green-eyed blond. But terribly charming.

\- Maybe fate, after all?

\- As I'm still with you, and not with him, I would say that it is not a fate. Ok, shut up. Let's go, where did you need to?

The girl began to twitter happily, Otabek did not understand a word, but dutifully followed his friend towards the metro.

***

The week passed quickly, having left after itself tiredness and a satisfied aftertaste. The session was delivered ahead of schedule, all the cards were digitized, the work with the microscope was done, and the quarry in the AutoCAD was finished. Otabek closed the laptop and snapped his fingers. Throughout that busy week, his head was filled with more important things, and he did not even remember about a chance acquaintance with Yura. But then when there was less work, he had a moment to indulge in heart thoughts. And that snap of his fingers reminded him of the melancholy boy. What was the probability of meeting him again? The minimum. However, not so long thoughts revolved around green-eyed and slightly timid Yura. An expedition to mountains was waiting for Altin, so he needed to collect things, and before the trip also meet Sarah.

He and his friend agreed to meet in the center, in the long-beloved bar at Fontanka-street. The dark-haired girl, as usual, was late, and Otabek was standing next to the bar, smoking a Lucky Strike, buried into the telephone.

\- Treat me a cigarette?

Having heard a hoarse drunk voice, Beka looked up from the phone and saw ... Yura! But, being such a drunk he looked like himself a little. Otabek even doubted a little whether that uncertain boy was really in front of him, but alcohol made wonders, didn’t it? He handed Yura a pack of cigarettes and smiled, intending to say hello.

\- Well, you smoke some shit, - Yura laughed. - But thanks anyway. By the way, I’m Dan, - and he held out his hand.

What? Apparently, Otabek’s face was completely amazed, and Yura or not Yura quickly added:

\- Denis, that is.

\- Otabek, - the young man said strangled and shook his hand. What the hell?

The hand was the same, it seemed so. The same beautiful long fingers, only decorated with several huge rings with a skull. On the nails there was peeling black varnish, and indeed, the style of the clothes was of the notorious informal: narrow ripped jeans, a T-shirt with a grinning tiger, a jacket with rivets, something awful on his head ... Otabek did not know what to think, it would seem, the same face, the same body but a completely different person. A voice was a tone lower; a confident, bold look; a wry smile - an attractive, depraved grin on one side. Well, and how to understand this? Twins? Amnesia?

Dan took a long drag, and then winked at Beck, who smiled involuntarily. Still a handsome guy. Very.

\- Are you alone here? - Denis asked. The question was clearly asked not in vain.

\- I’m waiting for a friend, and you?

\- Mmmm, a friend, - Dan handed out in disbelief. - In general, with my sister. But I can leave with you ...

\- A tempting offer, but I need to wait for Sarah. I can’t just throw her.

Otabek relaxed a bit. What the hell was the difference, what kind of cockroaches had that guy? Maybe he really had a twin, Yura, maybe he got drunk so that he didn't remember anything. Maybe, he was crazy. Moreover, even the last time he seemed a little poked, as if under the dope. Such a whole brooding and inhibited. What did it matter when he clearly wanted to continue? In love to the grave, Beck, maybe believed deep in his heart, but he did not consciously seek it. In sex for one night, his faith was clearly stronger.

\- Listen, - Altin continued. - Give me your number. I'll call you ... no, when I come from the expedition. True, now I can’t give up everything and leave with you, although I really want to.

\- No spirit of adventurism, - Denis laughed, crushing the goby. - Ok, write.

While they were exchanging phone numbers, a red-haired girl came up to them and laid her hand on Dan's shoulder. Otabek decided that that was the same sister. Although they were not alike. The girl was pretty. Tall, blue-eyed with a perky smile. If Otabek was straight, then he would crush on her - that's for sure.

\- Damn, Danchik, you are not able to ride, - she said and giggled. The girl was also tipsy.

Beka noticed a helmet in her hand. Wow, a motorcycle! Well, he’s got a biker! Good luck! Otabek himself adored motorcycles, though his own bike was still under repair after a small accident in which, apart from the iron horse, no one had been injured, fortunately.

\- I am always able to ride, - Denis said nonchalantly. - Okay, Otabek, we’ll set sail. Call me.

The girl finally threw an appreciative look at Altin and hobbled over her brother, who had already managed to sit on the bike and put on his helmet. A minute later, a couple with a wild roar sped away.

\- These morons have almost knocked me! - Beck heard Sarah's voice. - What kind of face? - She asked worriedly, looking at the dumbfounded friend.

\- Let’s go inside, I’ll tell you, you’re my punctual.

***

The expedition was, as it had been expected, fun and productive. In addition to the planned work, young geologists managed to get drunk, shout songs with a guitar, photograph the Milky Way, and tell each other a bunch of horror and ridiculous stories.

Otabek was lying on a plaid and looking at the starry sky. He was a little tired of the company of colleagues and classmates. By the end of such trips, one always wanted to return home as soon as possible, with the same terrible force as at the beginning one wanted to get out of the house quickly. None of those people knew about his orientation, so the guy quickly began to feel moral fatigue, communicating with the "uninitiated" long. He always had to choose his words carefully so as not to blurt out anything superfluous, to keep track of the amount he had drunk, so that his eyes would not involuntarily begin to undress any young jock instead of a busty girl. Relations with girls-classmates were built on the note of a friendly half-flirt, but carefully, so that none of them wanted to continue, otherwise unnecessary questions might arise. Otabek was firmly convinced that no one knew of his preferences, as he acted like an ordinary guy: he liked football, boxing and beer. But still, he felt uncomfortable and a hypocrite. Although, if they knew the truth, he would also communicate with everyone, still like football, boxing and beer, and also guys ... But they would begin to communicate with him, most likely, in a different way. And that depressed, despite the fact that in general the team they had was quite pleasant.

Looking at the star-strewn sky, Beka first thought about Sarah and how lucky he was to have such a wonderful companion. She had been his friend since childhood and always known the truth about him. From the very beginning. In their small town, she pretended to be his girlfriend painstakingly when they came home for vacation and holidays. Their parents were waiting for the wedding. And what? Perhaps they would do that some day. Sarah had had several difficult relationships, after which she was not opposed to living a life with a gay friend, who at least would not betray, than with some unknown one, and again to experience pain. Sometimes they discussed that prospect of a joint partner marriage. Perhaps in five-ten years they would really come to that. Who knew how life would turn?

Altin grinned at such thoughts. Sarah knew him better than he himself. Looking at the Milky Way, he was dreaming of a different life. He wanted to meet that very one, despite eternal skepticism that poped up during conversations about love. He claimed that he was not at all romantic ... A geologist was not a romantic, whom did he deceive? He wondered if Yura-Denis would have liked there. Yura, for sure, would have liked the view. There was something charmingly naive and tender in him. But Dan, most likely, did not care about stars and the space. After having talked with Sarah, Beka nevertheless tended to meet the twins. And he liked the first more, but he had the phone number of the second boy ... But thanks to Dan he could find Yura. It remained only to return to St. Petersburg and meet at least one of the brothers.

***

Otabek got enough sleep, took a shower, had breakfast, showed pictures to his neighbor in the campus, got into his phone. It was twelve o’clock in the afternoon. Not the right time to invite a guy on a date. Or suitable one? All the same, there was nothing to do, so Altin decided that, to hell with it, with the time. He went out onto the balcony, lit a cigarette and dialed Denis's cherished number.

\- I’ve thought you had forgotten about me, - came a sleepy, hoarse voice in the receiver.

\- No, I hadn’t. I said that I had been in an expedition ... But now I'm back in St. Petersburg ... and ... - the guy hesitated, for some reason he didn’t feel very confident next to Denis. But when communicating with Yura, the advantage was still on the side of Altin. - In general ... I… I thought we ... that is… you ... in short ...

\- He who has shorter grows it at home, - Dan neighed. - Beka, I'm at home ... alone. Shall I throw off the address?

\- Yes, - Otabek exhaled nervously.

\- Or I can pick you up. Shall I ride you ?! – And he neighed again.

\- Well, - Altin hesitated again. - That would be great, - he missed the speed. A ride, though in an unusual role of a passenger, looked attractive. - Do you know where the campus of the Geological Institute is?

\- Approximately, when I drive up I’ll call.

\- Come on...

There were beeps in the receiver. Beka started wandering from corner to corner. If he were a girl, he would rush to make up and comb his hair. But he was dressed so normally: jeans, a T-shirt and a sweatshirt are clean. He took a shower; chewing gum was in his mouth. His hair was put in order immediately after a shower, although for a long time it was possible to do nothing special with it. He had that undercut so long ago that long strands had already remembered where they were supposed to lie. He had to smoke again. After about forty minutes of wandering around the room, the phone rang. It was Dan.

\- Well, handsome? I'm here. Let's ride!

\- I’m going out, - muttered Otabek.

He simultaneously liked and did not like such a relaxed assertiveness of a newly made friend. It seemed that for him it was all the same. And on the one hand, that was what you needed: fun and stress-free, but on the other ... was it necessary?

Dan appeared before him in all his glory: disheveled hair shimmering with gold in the sun, a motorcycle red jacket, a sports bike. The guy was leaning on a motorcycle, and turning a black helmet in his hands. The second was hanging on the steering wheel.

\- Ready? - He asked instead of a greeting.

Otabek nodded, Dan gestured to sit down. 

“Yeah, a dialogue is not his thing,” - Altin thought, enjoying the roar of the engine. But he himself was often told something similar, indicating taciturnity.

\- I feel it’s not the first time you ride, isn’t it? - Shouted Denis.

\- Yeah, - Otabek answered, lowering his visor. He decided that he would tell that he was the biker himself, later. If there was a topic. If they talk at all.

\- Well, hold on tighter!

They were driving about thirty minutes. Beck received a lot of impressions. Firstly, adrenaline from speed. As he thought, Dan drove loose, not bothering to comply with all traffic rules. Secondly, no matter how he was there, the guy was hot. And to snuggle up to his slim sexy body was very nice. Anyway, they were young, healthy, beautiful, why not have fun?

They stopped near a private house in Lomonosovo region, if Altin had correctly orientated. Having jumped off the bike, they still silently headed for the house. It turned out to be two-storied one, not very large, but, immediately obvious, well-groomed. Flower beds, trees, a painted white fence, neighboring houses were situated quite far away. In sight, but still you felt out of place. Almost an American dream. The American dream of a sociopath.

\- Very nice, - said Altin, approaching the door.

\- Yeah, - Dan said. - Come in.

The situation inside was to match the look from the outside: not to say that it was too rich and pretentious, but well-groomed and tasteful. The inhabitants were clearly not in poverty, although they did not swim in gold either.

\- Will you drink something? - The owner of the house asked.

\- Coffee. It would be great, - said Otabek, rubbing his hands.

\- You’ve frozen, or what? I can warm without coffee...

Otabek did not have time to react to the remark, as he immediately felt Dan’s lips, pressing to his own. The guy kissed assertively, rudely and passionately. Basically, Beck liked that manner. Dan tasted good, exactly the way Altin’s imagination had drawn. Throwing off jackets while going, almost without loosening a kiss, the young people moved to some bedroom. Altin did not have time to look around, out of the corner of his eye he only noticed that everything around was in dark colors, there were a lot of strange paintings on the walls. After dropping Beck onto the bed, Dan sat on the top of him and pulled off a T-shirt. He looked with a pleased look at the bare chest that appeared before him and began to kiss the path roughly from Altin’s neck to his stomach. A dull moan escaped Otabek's lips.

\- By the way, I'm on top, - Dan said, hanging over Otabek’s face, frantically flashing with emerald eyes. A silver square appeared in his teeth, which he expertly opened.

\- Well, okay, I don’t really care, - said Altin, unbuttoning the biker’s jeans.

\- Mmm, I like versatile guys, - Denis smiled.

Sex was excellent: passionate, moderately rough. Denis, contrary to Otabek’s fears, was not a selfish partner. In general, Beka was not a supporter of a one-time sex, and not because it contradicted him with some moral values there. Just usually the first sex was always not very good. You needed to get used to the partner, feel, understand what he liked, what you liked. Then it turned out cool. But it turned out well with Dan right away, apparently, he didn’t have such troubles. He was relaxed and ... technical. Apparently, Denis was exactly the supporter of the frequent change of guys. Altin did not understand whether he was satisfied with what had happened or not. It seemed that everyone got what they had wanted, without emotional attachment. Perhaps that’s why he felt indifference and emptiness.

\- Will you throw me to the underground? - He asked, getting dressed.

Denis at that moment was also pulling on a T-shirt. The guy looked amazing. Without clothes, he was even prettier than in them, but for some reason Otabek no longer wanted to touch that body.

\- Yes, I will drive you straight to where I’ve taken you, - the biker said. - Anyway, I need to be in that district.

\- Okay.

The guys did not say a word up to the campus. What did Denis do, at least how old he was? Otabek did not know anything about him. Then there was no desire to learn. They said goodbye amiably and dryly, and only when entered his room did Altin realize that his mobile phone had remained in Dan's room. The young man swore loudly, because that meant that he would have to see Denis at least once more.

In the evening, he called on his number from his neighbor’s phone and agreed with Dan that he would bring him the phone the next day. But the biker never showed up.

***

After waiting for Denis all evening, Otabek again began to call on his own phone, but no one answered. The young man began to freak out. Firstly, the phone was new; secondly, there was a bunch of necessary numbers. Dan did not look like a man who decided to appropriate the phone for himself, but he looked like a man who did not care. That was, for sure he somewhere drank, found a new guy and forgot to think about Otabek and his problems. Therefore, in the morning Beka went to Lomonosovo.

He orientated himself on the terrain perfectly, but nevertheless they had ridden a bike, so to find the right house on foot appeared not such an easy task. However, the young man did it. Having rung the bell, he froze. Somewhere deep in the heart he worried, not even knowing why. The girl opened the door. A moment later, Altin recognized her as Denis's sister.

\- There's no Dan, - she said lazily, chewing some gum.

Otabek wanted to start explaining the situation with the phone, but instead asked:

\- And Yura?

There was a pause. Amazement reflected on the girl's face.

\- D… do you know? Has he told you everything? - She asked, looking at Otabek in shock.

\- Well, not really, - the guy was embarrassed, not realizing what had happened out of the ordinary. - We met separately somehow. First with Yura, and then....

\- Ohhh, - the girl interrupted. - You don't know anything, okay, come in. I will tell. Only this is all between us, - she warned, shaking her red mop of hair.


	2. II.

Otabek was sitting at the kitchen table and gazing around lostly, clinging to either the blue curtains on the windows or Mila (that was the name of the red-haired girl). For some reason, Altin was nervous. He felt that then something extraordinary would be told to him, and Mila, as luck would have it, was taking time, serving tea.

\- Have you read Billy Milligan's Mysterious Story? - She asked, setting a mug of fragrant tea and a plate with sandwiches in front of the young man.

\- Yes, a cool book, - Beka answered automatically (without thinking much) and blew tea.

\- Well, then I don’t have to explain everything to you for a long time, - the red-haired one smiled, sitting down opposite.

\- Do you mean that…?

\- Yes, I do.

Silence.

Otabek was thinking slowly, making two plus two. The gears in his head were spinning with some creak, and Mila was waiting patiently when it occurred to him.

\- That is, you want to say, - he began… - what ... no, - Beck shook his head.

\- Yes, that is exactly what I want to say. My brother Yura has dissociative identity disorder. Or split personalities, as you like more.

Otabek did not like it at all. And the information did not fit in his head. He did not even know what to say. And what to think, he also did not know. And how to relate to that, there were no ideas. Pleasant emptiness appeared in his head. Altin focused on his tea, because it seemed the simplest.

\- Say something already, - Mila could not stand it.

\- I don’t know what they say in such cases, - Otabek honestly admitted. - Does he know about this?

\- Yes, of course, - Mila answered unexpectedly lively and cheerful.

\- Damn, how do you live with this?

\- Well, fine, - the girl smiled. – Have used to it already. He has had it since childhood. Both of his personalities are quite normal guys. In short, neither Yura nor Denis is maniacs or anything like that. They are just different. But I love both.

\- You say so, as if it’s true, two different people!

Although in a book about Milligan it was all that way. The body was one, and all of his personalities were different, with their own abilities and even accents.

\- And they are actually two different people. Absolutely. I have two brothers, not one. The only problem is that they can never be near at the same time, - Mila sighed and unfolded one chocolate candy that she pulled from the vase that was in the center of the dining table. - Help yourself.

\- And how does he or they live in our society? - Sweets were of the least interest to Otabek in the world now. - Well, what about study and work? - Altin understood that he understood nothing, but it was terribly interesting to sort it out.

\- Well, as a child, he went to two different schools. Very few knew about his problem, but knew. Therefore, he had something like a free visit. Denis studied at one school, and Yura studied at another one. Now it’s the same. Yurka studies at a philological faculty by correspondence, draws, reads, he is not very sociable at all, he has few friends. And Dan, on the contrary, is a party-goer. He is fond of cars, motorcycles. This person has two souls, two sets of documents, even two different rooms ... But we are all used to it, so this is normal for our family. Somehow, - she smiled timidly, flinging her red hair.

\- I see ... – that’s all Otabek could squeeze out of himself. - In general, it's ... I’ve come for the phone. I’ve forgotten it ... with Dan, - he added and paused.

\- Oh, I see, - Mila smiled. - Sit here, I'll bring it now.

As soon as the girl climbed the stairs, the front door opened and Yura appeared in the doorway. Otabek immediately realized that it was Yura. He had a completely different look, a different posture and a different smile - bewildered, embarrassed. And Beka involuntarily smiled too. He did not even know that he would be so glad to see that guy. Exactly that one. But he had slept for some reason with the other. More precisely...

What the hell, and how to deal with this? He seemed to be doing different things with Yura’s body, but Yura didn’t know about it? Or he knew?

\- H… hi, - Yura said in surprise, putting his hands in his pockets. - What are you doing here?

He looked sleepy, disheveled, as if he had just woken up. Judging by the ridiculously wide trousers with cats, looking like a pajama, that was it.

\- Um, well, I ...

What could he say? You and I had slept, but not quite with you, although I wanted to do it with you, but when that guy, as I thought, your brother, offered it for some reason I did not refuse. Damn, Beka, you’ve really screwed up on all fronts. Even if the situation were not so stale. But for some reason, when all that happened, it did not seem wrong. Then he was terribly ashamed seeing Yura. He stirred up with Dan in vain.

\- Dan? - asked Yura disappointedly-sadly.

\- Yes, - breathed Otabek, feeling an unreal sense of guilt. - Sorry, I didn't ... know until Mila explained.”

\- Come on, - Yura dismissed and began to make coffee, as if nothing had happened. - It's your business with him. But ... he’ll hardly call back, - he grunted. - And I don't know when he will turn on. If you want, I can write him a note that you have come in and are waiting for the continuation; - he put a mug with some steaming coffee on the table and sat opposite Otabek. - We chat with him from time to time, - Yura explained. - Sometimes it is necessary to solve some issues together.

\- No, thank you, - Altin answered hoarsely, still not fully sticking to what was happening. - I’ve just forgotten my phone with ... him.  
Yura nodded in understanding and looked at his watch, as if waiting for someone. Otabek just wanted to apologize again, but Mila came in with his phone in her hands.

\- Good morning, Yurochka! - The girl chirped, handed the phone to Beck, and then patted her brother’s hair.

Yura frowned, tried to dodge, and muttered so that he would not be called that. He was like an evil kitten, which got some annoying attention from his owners. Altin looked into the eyes of thay bristling, pouting incredibly charming guy and felt dizzy. How was that possible? He was caressing that flexible, supple body the whole night, but it wasn’t Yura’s one. He and Dan were actually different people. And, well, Denis was damn handsome, energetic and charismatic and, most importantly, sexy, but ... he was not the one Otabek just wanted to look at without taking his eyes off. He wanted to look at Yura. Some miracles.

\- Vitya is late, - Yura told his sister. - Why is he not so punctual?

Beck wanted to know who Vitya was. Altin wanted to ask questions both Mila and Yura himself. He would like to hear even Denis’s version, but Otabek understood that he had no right to do so. And in general, he had been using hospitality for too long. Therefore, smiling guilty at Yura and Mila at the same time, Altin was going to home.

\- I’ll see off! - The girl stood when Yura only waved his hand weakly parting, plunging into absorption of some remaining sandwiches completely.

They reached the gate in silence, but Mila clearly decided to say something else. After hesitating, she finally said:

\- I’ve told you all this just because Dan really likes you. This has not happened before. He had guys for one night and a million interests with which he fills every free moment. Yura ... he is in no hurry to live, as if not thinking that he is living as if half. Do you understand? Denis is obsessed with the fact that he has half the time than a normal person, and is trying to catch it all. And usually he doesn’t bother with guys or relationships, but he’s buzzed all my ears about you, I’ve decided that you should know if ... well ... interested. Although everyone will understand if you merge, - she smiled hesitantly.

\- Listen, Mila, - Otabek tried to find some words, picking some peeling paint on the fence. - So far, too much information and ... I seem to have chosen the wrong guy, - he said embarrassedly, without raising his head.

\- No! And he’s not even a gay, if that, - the girl said, somehow coldly. - He is also very vulnerable. No need ... just don’t touch him and that’s it, okay?  
Beck wanted to scream that Yura had already been touched in all places! And at the same time, not. Two different people, but at the same time the same one. It was necessary to realize everything, so Otabek only nodded weakly, saying goodbye to Mila, but then a tall handsome man with ash hair and violet eyes came up to the gate.

\- Hello, Vit! - said Mila. - You're late, Yurka is already freaking out.

\- Oh, today again Yurochka, - the man smiled cheerfully. - I do not want to be biased, but with him the therapy goes away calmly.

Mila once again said goodbye to Otabek, and walked with that man to the house. So a psychotherapist or what he was.

***

While Beka was going to his hostel, of course, he was googling about split personality.

Dissociative identity disorder (the diagnosis of multiple personality disorder is also used, which is called split personality by nonprofessionals) is a very rare mental disorder from the group of dissociative disorders in which a person’s personality is divided and it seems that there are several different personalities in the body of one person (or, in another terminology, ego states). Moreover, at certain moments in this person there is a "switch", and one state replaces the other. These “personalities” can have different sexes, ages, nationalities, temperaments, mental abilities, worldviews, and respond differently to the same situations. After the “switch”, the currently active state cannot remember what was happening while the other one was active. *

Wikipedia went on telling that such a rare disease usually occurs after serious emotional upheaval, psychological trauma, such as violence, for example. And all of that was a kind of protective mechanism of some man, his way to cope with stress. Another free encyclopedia insisted that the disease is not schizophrenia, and told a lot of things about the history, well-known cases and that the opinions of psychiatrists and psychologists were constantly different. In short - everything was complicated.

The book about Billy Milligan said that thanks to therapy he was able to “glue” him into a single person for a while. Beck wondered if that Victor was doing the same thing. Wikipedia claimed that the only way to cure was therapy. Drug treatment did not exist.

Having approaching the hostel, Otabek felt wild tiredness. There were so many thoughts in his head that it began to hurt. He just had to go to bed, and then just throw it all out of his head. Although both of those guys, or rather, one guy in both of his states attracted and aroused interest, Altin decided that it was not worth contacting. Or soon he himself would go to some lunatic asylum. Just forget both. And Yura, and Denis.

***

Of course, to forget the story that had happened completely didn’t work out instantly. Thoughts by themselves also returned to Yura-Denis’s phenomenon, but Otabek tried. And every day it turned out better, and work at the university was distracting. Distracted not because he liked it, but because it squeezed all the juices. Summertime meant applicants’s gathering. Altin was sent for the second year from the department to the selection committee, as there was sore lack of people there. A lot of papers, documents, a lot of calls and frightened, only recently, former pupils. Although their parents were more frightened, but anyway. Because of the stream of the same, often silly questions he had a constant headache. Also, Sarah was always loading him with her twin brother Michel.

Their family drama could easily qualify for a film adaptation in the form of a Brazilian soap opera. Or, better, Italian one. Are soaps being shot in Italy?

It all started with the fact that the father of Sarah and Michelle, having quarreling with his parents (during his student’s years) went for adventures to Russia. And fell in love. Fell in love with Russian culture, life and a Russian woman and decided to stay, having broken ties with his historical homeland. Then the family settled in Kazakhstan, in a small town and led a calm, almost rural way of life. But it was not enough for the twins, they both wanted something more. Sarah wanted to move to Petersburg, and Michelle was drawn to Italy. He found his paternal relatives and made contact with them. The Italian part of the family was happy to accept grandchildren, but Sarah was not going to change her life so radically, claiming that from the Italian woman she had only black hair, dark skin, and a sonorous surname - Crispino. Everything else seemed alien and unattractive to her. And the relatives were not impressed.

Since the brother and sister were always close, Michelle accepted the sister’s refusal to move as a resentment and left alone. His things, by the way, went uphill, but once a month he steadily got drunk and called his sister in order to make her brain out that she was supposedly a traitor, and even stupid.

After such conversations, Sarah invariably became depressed, and Otabek had to drag her to bars and clubs to bring her to senses. And that period came again, as if on a schedule. And yesterday they got so drunk that Beka never remembered a guy with two personalities all the evening, which was a record, because for the whole week that had passed since the visit to Lomonosovo, that happened for the first time.

Otabek woke up from a phone call, and before he identified the caller, he managed to curse him. Saturday it is! Let him get enough sleep, what kind of people! And it didn’t matter what time it was. He didn’t sleep!

Yours ... Denis was calling. So… forgotten… how.

\- Beka, hi! - The guy chattered too cheerfully. - I'm sorry that it’s happened with your phone. I did not have time to leave instructions to Yura, he ... suddenly “turned on”. I was not going to ignore you, honestly. Milka said that she had told you everything, and you, well, were fucked up, - he laughed, and his laughter rang out in Otabek’s temples. - Anyone would be fucked up, I understand. But ... maybe you will give me a chance to explain everything ... firsthand? In short, let's take a walk? Beck? 

\- I'm just waiting for you to say: “Call me back when you get the message”, - Altin involuntarily smiled, stretching. - You were chattering like you were leaving a voice.

\- I'm sorry ... I'm in a hurry all the time, yes, - Dan said, swallowing the words in a hurry. - So what?

\- Um, well ...

Otabek did not know what to do. His brains were screaming that it was necessary to refuse and not to get involved. The person is not aggressive, but mentally ill! It could be really dangerous, unpredictable and ... and Beck also wanted to know more about that guy-two-for-price-one. He was drawn to him. True, to both of them differently. And it was terribly nerving and exciting.  
\- In short, I'll call in twenty minutes, will you be in time?

\- Well. uh ...

\- Coffee from me.

\- Okay.

Hell, this guy will definitely not miss his. So what did the brains tell there?

***

He was standing leaning against his sport bike and smoking a cigarette as if sucking someone around the corner. Well, what a daring one! Beck himself didn’t have a sports bike, but an enduro, because he chose convenience when traveling long distances, and not a cheap (read - expensive) pontoon.

Dan looked, of course, cool and defiant. He was wearing black, too ripped jeans with massive chains on pockets, a shabby black leather jacket, which definitely cost a lot of money, moreover, precisely because of stylishly fashionable attrition. On his hands there were leather gloves. In principle, Altin himself dressed like that when he drove along the streets of St. Petersburg (and not only). True, Beck put on always massive soldier-boots, and Dan loved sneakers. Leopard ones. Strange color, but it looked pretty. By rock and roll, not fag. Even his black varnished nails looked the topic. All that blackness was diluted with blond hair tied in a bob on the top of the head. Well, handsome. True, no kidding.

Otabek cringed. He managed to crawl out of bed, take a shower and put on jeans with a sweatshirt. But while Beka was approaching the guy, Dan was looking at him, not hiding his sympathy, with some kind of predatory squint. Like a tiger spotted a prey. From such a glance Beka was thrilling. He wanted to turn around and run away. And he also wanted the hunt to succeed, and the predator grabbed him. Apparently, duality with that person was in everything.

\- Hello, - breathed Altin, struggling with the desire to slip away ahead of time.

\- Sit down, coffee first, as I’ve promised, - Dan smiled, almost grinning.

\- And then? - Otabek hoped that he sounded not at all pathetic and not scared.

\- Surprise.

Finka** was a surprise. They’d taken a ride with some breeze, you can’t say anything. Altin himself drove, sometimes risking too much, often violating the speed limit, so that his passengers stood on end. But it’s one thing when you, like, were driving a situation, while the other one was a stranger, and even with mental disorder. Therefore, the question came to his mind by itself:

\- Does Yura know how to drive a motorcycle?

\- And what? Do you like him better? - Denis's lips twisted unpleasantly.

\- That's not the point,” Altin tensed, flexing his stiff back. - Just ... can he turn on when you're driving? And if he does not know how, then ...

\- You're like Yacov and Lily, - the guy muttered, kicking a pebble. - Yes, he does. Exactly because of this reason. It terribly enrages. Until he deigned to at least learn more or less how to manage a bike, they didn’t allow me to ride!

\- Well, that’s logical. And how often do you “switch”? And who are Yacov and Lily? What about Vitya? And when ... I'm sorry, - Otabek recalled. - It's just ... unusual.

\- This is not unusual. It's a fucking fuck, Beck, - Dan laughed, relaxing. - But I understand. I would also be burned with curiosity.

From the confused, interrupted by Otabek story, who asked Denis more and more new questions, it turned out that Yury Plisetsky at the age of nine was adopted by a couple of leading psychiatrists, whose names were well known in their field - Yacov Feltsman and Lilia Baranovskaya. They specialized in personality disorders, and then they heard about a living representative who lived in one of Moscow's orphanages. By that time, the couple had already had a girl, Mila, also from an orphanage with obsessive-compulsive disorder.

\- I remember myself from the age of four, - said Denis, having thrown the pebble into the water. It bounced several times on the water. - But Yura also did it. Therefore, we do not know when I exactly "appeared". It seems to me that I have always been. But Victor is a former student of Yacov and Lilia, it is he who is currently engaged in our therapy, and so, Victor, of course, says that I could not be from the very beginning. The second person appears after the first has experienced some kind of psychological trauma. And since Yura Plisetsky has existed according to documents from the very birth, it was he ... the original, - Dan grunted.

One of the ways to “merging” is to try to get to the bottom of events that have entailed “splitting”, then, using therapy, “heal” the old trauma, but in Plisetsky’s case it is unrealistic. Something happened to Yura at too young age, even hypnosis did not help to remember what exactly it had been. Otabek also read that both personalities need to be treated equally, to help them agree among themselves. That's just judging by how Dan sounded, he did not want to negotiate with anyone. He did not want any merging. And he was jealous of Yura because of everything and everybody. The very problem was in him, in his obstinacy.

\- I don't want to go anywhere! - He informed Altin. - Why am I on the sidelines? If Yura ceases to “turn on”, then for a long time they will not miss this boring bore.

But Otabek has been already a little bored. Of course, he did not say that out loud.

\- As we have to divide one body into two, - Denis complained when they were eating burgers on the shores of the Gulf of Finland, which he prudently took with him, - I can’t try to be in the bottom, - he snorted. - Otherwise, he promised to fasten a chastity belt on us. He has a wild fad on that. I can sleep with anyone I want, but only in an active role. And yet until he approves, I can not change the hairstyle or make a tattoo. I would not listen to him, but if I do not listen, then he takes revenge. Once I cut my hair, and then "turned on" smeared with some green stuff, like with chickenpox! Fuck him, he almost never goes anywhere, but he’s I broken off the whole party to me. In general, we make decisions regarding our body together.

Together it meant with notes, voice messages or videos. And Denis also said that Viktor Nikiforov recorded therapy sessions, and then showed it to the other state.

\- You have no idea how strange it is to look at yourself when you say and do not at all what you should, - Dan admitted. - At first it was scary. But over time you get used to everything. And you will get used to it.

It sounded as if everything had been decided for Otabek. As if he was chosen, and he himself simply did not have the right to choose.

\- Well, if you don’t mind, - Denis deliberately kindly said, - now let’s forget about Yura and all this, okay? Let you try now to recognize me, is it coming?

\- Okay, let's try, - Beck agreed for some reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * A piece from Wikipedia. There is a lot of information, although dry and not the most interesting. If you want, I will then throw a link to more informative videos about this phenomenon.  
** The Gulf of Finland


	3. III.

It was one of Beck's most time-consuming and fleeting according to sensations dates. He and Denis were chattering until late twilight, periodically changing their location from one fast food cafes to another, traveling throughout St. Petersburg. Dan showed Otabek his favorite place with shawarma, although which looked like an eatery, but there they served the best shawarma in all of St. Petersburg. Altin did not remain in debt and shared with Dan his favorite coffee house. Dan appreciated it .

In general, they turned out to have extremely much in common. About some motorcycles, the guys had been speaking for two hours without stopping. Over time, Beck learned to besiege the endless stream of Denis's speech and insert his cues. All that was needed to take the blond chatterbox by the hand and stroke on the fingers. Then Dan fell silent and listened to as carefully as no one else. At such moments, he looked a bit like Yura. But during the day they couldn’t go hand in hand much, therefore their dialogues, of course, often turned into Plisetskiy’s monologues, even if he started with a question, but did not give an answer to the end, telling his own stories. For some reason, it didn’t make Beck angry, on the contrary, it touched him, because it seemed that the guy had so little time to be himself that he was not ready to miss even one moment.

And now, after a vivid discussion of some success, and, more often, the failures of the Russian national football team, Denis, who had offered to play “Kiss, sleep, send” game himself, did not let Beck finish. Otabek began with the “send”, and that applied to Smolov. And then Dan could not stand it, saying that Fedya was definitely for “sleep”. A heated debate began about the achievements of that famous football player, and Otabek almost got angry, but Denis moved so close and said almost into his lips:

“I know for sure that I want to kiss you, to hell with Smolov!”

It was already dark. They were sitting on the embankment of the Moika River, and nobody cared about them. Otabek did not refuse the offer. If after their previous making love he had had some unpleasant aftertaste regarding Denis, then for the whole day spent with an assertive, restless, wildly energetic, and sometimes, just a wild guy, all the negativity evaporated. There was only a strange aftertaste of anxiety and danger, reminding a surge of adrenaline.

Dan kissed just as wildly and assertively as he did the rest, gnawing Beck’s lips, painfully biting, and then licking his own bites drunkenly.

\- Will you date with me? - He asked, breaking the kiss, but continuing to press his swollen lips to Otabek’s, and keep his hands in the lock on the shaved nape.

The intonation was interrogative, but the question meant only one answer. Altin suspected that if he said “No”, then Denis would simply push him into the river.

Date? The last time Beck "date" a very long time ago. And it all ended with the fact that his boyfriend, having played enough for a gay, got married. The fact that Denis would not do that, Otabek knew for sure. But it did not mean that there would be less problems and worries. He’s crazy. A natural crazy! A fuckingly charming, stunningly beautiful and amazingly sexy frostbitten psycho. And Beka said: - Yes.

The lips pressed to his lips twisted into a contented smile. That was followed by a more gentle kiss than the previous ones. In the end, Denis completely relented, abandoning to fuck Otabek's mouth with his tongue, and began to behave more gently, but it did not get hotter because of it.

Altin was enjoying Denis's lips, which were becoming more supple and supple, stroking a flexible body under a jacket, fooling because of softness of Dan’s skin under his fingers and thinness of his waist, seductive hips and exciting touches. Dan was stroking Beck's hair with one hand, stretching his neck cervical vertebrae and shoulders with the other, one time plucking and scratching, then smoothing almost weightlessly. At some point, their kiss became especially sweet and tender, but it lasted just a second, and then Otabek was suddenly pushed back, someone screemed and stared at him with dazed eyes.

\- What ... Yura, - Beck suddenly guessed. - Um ... hi ?!

Suddenly, "turned on" Yura was clapping bewilderedly, looking around stealthily.

\- I'm sorry, - Otabek said just in case, not even knowing if he had anything to apologize for.

On the one hand, he had just rummaged around in the perplexed guy’s mouth. The guy who didn’t allow himself to be kissed. On the other one, that guy kissed him first! Also he offered to date. But it wasn’t him. Or it was he?

Because of such a situation Beck’s head began to swell. Altin thought he would not last that long. He had to listen to his own mind, insisting not to mess with that fucked up man.

Yura turned around again, staring at the front gates of the Russian State Pedagogical University, and asked:

\- The Moika? The uni?

\- Yes, listen to, - Otabek breathed, - are you okay? I'm sorry that I ... that we ...

\- Do you have any cigarettes? - He asked, waving a hand and slapping his pockets.

Otabek handed him his pack, knowing that Dan had had lit his own.

\- Thank you, - said Yura, nervously lighting a cigarette. – Damn it! - He pouted, lighting his own fingers with a lighter. - How he’s got me! I asked him not to paint our fingers with this ... Arrr!

Altin delicately kept silent. He liked black polish. But he liked the boy even without it.

\- He’s also on this deadly piece of iron! - The guy grumbled, noticing the bike. - How I, damn it, get to the house!

\- Dan said you know how to drive, or not?

Yura wanted to be hugged tightly. To be regretted, consoled, said that everything would be fine, he had such an unhappy look.

\- I’ve passed the exam, - Yura muttered. - In theory, if I “turn on” on a motorcycle, I’ll be able to stop it. But in practice this did not happen! Therefore…

\- Do you want me to take you? - offered Otabek. - I can drive motorcycles. Fair. And not bad enough.

\- Really, can you? - asked Yura with hope, clapping with his big, wet eyes.

How gentle he seemed! Touching, young, unearthly and so ... pristine. Fuck, how so? Why? Why does this version cause such a thrill? The desire to protect, fence off all the problems and anxieties. To wrap in a plaid, give the most interesting book in the world and kiss gently, accurately and with a sinking heart. Probably, Otabek would not dare to sleep with Yura for a long time, even if the guy himself wanted to. So inaccessible and immaculate he seemed. And do not care that his lips were red with passionate, sultry kisses and ardent, passionate bites! He seemed unsullied anyway.

Beck wanted to kiss Yura on the forehead chastely. To tuck in broken strands of deliciously smelling hair under pretty ears. And to look into his impossible, bottomless amazing eyes that were shimmering in the moonlight, like beryls in the light.

Otabek liked Dan. Very much. It was interesting, fun, cool, bright and tasty with him. He wanted that guy, wanted to be with him, chat, have sex, kiss and yes! He wanted to date with him, damn it. And Altin was deeply in love with Yura. Even a little more. He was choking on the strange, stupefying, narcotic fleur next to him. And it was one man, but ... Beka was sure that neither Dan nor Jura would like it. Yes, Denis would surely beat him if he found out what feelings aroused in him, in his own, another hypostasis.

To fool. Simply. Shit.

For those thirty-odd minutes that Altin was driving through St. Petersburg at night, taking Yura home, who was clinging to his back shyly, Otabek was trying to imagine what an extraordinary guy would be Yura if he “merged” together. Would he lose the charm of both, or, on the contrary, would both extremes combine favorably? Was it possible to be so unimaginably fragile and strong at the same time? Innocent and vicious? Touching and sexy? Phlegmatic-melancholy and frantically wild one? Maybe that's why there were two of them? One Plisetskiy simply did not fit such a motley range in his subtle body.

Otabek parked in the already familiar courtyard and helped get down muttering gratitude Yura from the bike. He himself was going to call a taxi, but Yura reminded that the bridges had been raised, it would be necessary to go around, it would cost a lot.

\- Maybe you stay with us? - He offered shyly. – There is nobody at home. Milka is at her friend’s house, and Jacob and Lily have not yet returned from a seminar in Moscow. I mean, no one will mind, - he added hastily. - You will spend the night in Dan’s room. He certainly will not mind, - Yura grunted. - You're the first to get a second date, you know.

And Otabek agreed. He simply could not resist those eyes. Moreover, both times when they were looking so softly and almost helplessly, and when they were burning a hole in him with their obstinacy and perseverance.

To fall in love with two guys at the same time? Ha! Well. What do you know about the love triangle, when such a situation takes place here ?!

***

The first thing Yura did he took Beck to the bathroom, equipped him with a towel, a T-shirt and gray sports trousers “they are wide and with an elastic band so they should fit.” For every action he seemed to make excuses. It was as if he were personally guilty that he did not have any clothes for guests for all occasions.

\- A hot tap is cold water, and a cold tap is hot, - and that also sounded not without any guilt.

It seems that Yura considered himself superfluous in that world. A burden. Maybe that was his problem. He did not manage to find his place in the world, to feel himself necessary and desired, so he came up with a bolder version that bit into life.

Having washed off the thick foam, which was formed only from a few drops of a shower gel, smelling of mango and passion fruit, Otabek looked at himself in a fogged mirror. He also lacked the courage to accept himself entirely. If he had a split personality, then what would be his doppelganger? Surely, he, like Dan, would not hide his orientation. He would say everything he thought without choosing words. He would send all of those who would not want or were not ready to understand and accept, to hell! And also, perhaps, he would try to become a rock star. Or a DJ.

Music was Otabek's secret passion. Perhaps if he had had the second chance to choose a life path, he would have risked it, but in that version he did not have the courage. With art, either you put everything at stake - or nothing. When it's just a hobby, it's just a hobby. To create really, you need to give all of yourself. And this is risky. And Beck did not have the courage to take a chance.

Why do you always have to choose anything? Why is it impossible to have all at once? Maybe Plisetskiy just goes against the system. He does not want to choose what to be.

The sports trousers fitted well enough, except that they were a little short, but then it was so fashionable. Bare ankles, all things. The shirt was also in size. It had a print from Placebo's latest album. Beck wondered whose it was, Dan’s or Yura’s.

\- Tea is on the table,- Yura announced when Beck appeared from the bathroom. – I’ll return just now, quickly ... There are some sandwiches, but if you are hungry, then I will ...

\- It's all right, Yura, thanks, - Otabek tried to give his voice soothing notes. - Take your time, please. I'm very well.

Yura smiled weakly, nodded and disappeared in the doorway.

While Altin was waiting for Yura to return and drinking tea, examining a stylish kitchen, where a hand of a good interior designer was felt, he stumbled upon a small, old vase in the corner with dried branches in it. The color of that vase exactly resembled the color of the eyes of both Plisetsky. An unusual turquoise, which got deeper into green, but sometimes gave an unusual bluish glow. Suddenly, a fragment of a ceramic similar in color surfaced in his memory, which Beka had found on the road behind the school as a child.

They, with both Crispino’s children, while being still very small, often poked around in the pebbles of that unmade road, looking for the most interesting and beautiful ones. Perhaps that action pushed Otabek to a geologist’s path. There was nothing valuable except for the cool color in the first ceramic miscarriage that he picked up and brought home, but Beck still kept it. As a reference point.

Then Sheldon Cooper's joke came up in his head that geologists were the Kardashians in the celebrity world, not real scientists. Oh, and Otabek would answer that upstart if he could.

\- Will it be normal for you if I smell acetone a little? - came Yura’s voice in the doorway. - He showed a jar of nail polish remover and a piece of cotton wool.

Otabek said: - Everything is OK.

Yura was washing black varnish violently, sticking out the tip of his tongue with zeal. He had a very warlike look. It was as if he were fighting for his territory, defending his own borders. That sight was at the same time touching and somehow sad. There were blue stains on the nails. The blond guy was certainly annoying because of it.

\- Damn, - he hissed. - Here ... well ... damn it. And so it is every time!

\- Why are you so annoying? - Otabek asked carefully. – It suits you.

Yura frowned.

\- And, in my opinion, it is some bust. I’m not a rock star, not a goth, not even a gay, probably, - the latter phrase sounded very uncertainly.

\- So, to paint your nails, you must belong to some class or template that allows you to do this… - snapped Beck a little. - Has anyone set a dress code for you?

\- No, but…

\- What if you leave, for example, a pair of nails on each hand? - offered Altin, not knowing why. His internal intuition said that if Yura agreed, that would be an important step. It was true, in Otabek’s head, the thought had not taken any shape yet. He did not know a step towards what. But he was sure that it would be important. - Maybe Dan will like it, and he'll stop painting all the nails completely. Well, such a compromise it is .

\- And which ones to leave? - asked Yura uncertainly.

\- You can leave the index and middle ones , for example. Or the middle and nameless ones. It is possible to do so on different hands in different ways. How do you like more?

Plisetskiy did just that. On the right hand he left black nails of the index and middle fingers, and on the left one - the nameless and middle ones. He had been staring at his hands bewitched for a long time. Otabek had been doing so too. He really liked those thin long fingers. And sucking them was cool. He knew that when the first night Dan was putting his fingers into his mouth, and that blew the roof.

Beka shook his head. Such thoughts were not at the right time.

\- Let's go to sleep, shall we? - asked Yura tiredly. – Do you remember where Dan’s room is?”

Altin remembered, but Yura followed him anyway.

Now, when Dan did not try to fuck him and lick him from head to foot, Otabek managed to look around. Even then, unusual paintings on the walls attracted his attention: gloomy, dark, incomprehensible abstractions that instilled some unhealthy alarm into the soul. Each canvas had its own soul. Each of them screamed and begged for something.

\- Are they yours? - Asked Otabek, knowing exactly the answer.

\- Yes, - and again an apologetic voice.

\- They are incredible, Yura. You are very talented! - without exaggeration, said Otabek.

\- Thanks. On the last therapy that I watched in the recording, Dan said, - Yura grunted, - that my only useful skill is painting. He likes my paintings. He would like to draw like me. And, if he had got this skill, then in my existence there would have been no sense at all.

\- This is not true! - exclaimed Beck with fervor, somehow forcing himself not to grab Yura by the shoulders and not to shake. How does he not understand? He is awesome!

\- I think this is partly true, - Yura sighed, examining one of the paintings. - He is the soul of any company, cheerful and sociable. He has friends. And I have only a family, and it’s adopted one.

\- I can be your friend, - said Otabek quietly. - More precisely, not so. I WANT to be your friend, can I?

\- You sleep with me, Beka,- Yura reminded sadly. - Without asking if I want this or not. What is friendship?

\- Hm, - Altin frowned and sat down on the bed, looking up at Yura. - You should decide whether I am sleeping with you or with another person. And then the evidence varies.

\- I’ve been doing this all my life! Trying to determine just that! For three years now, Victor has been trying to force me ...us to do this, but ... this is the most difficult thing.

\- Denis really wanted this, - Otabek tried to pick out the words as best as possible. - And he and I are very well together. But ... if you are different, then why can't we be friends with you? I sleep with him. By mutual agreement, isn’t? Let's solve it once and for all. If you are opposed, believing that you are the same person, then I will break up with him. But if you are still different, then let us deal with it ourselves. And ... let's be friends, Yura? Will you be my friend?

\- It's hard to refuse, - whispered Yura. - Nobody has offered me to be friends yet ... And now what needs to be done? What are friends doing?

\- Let's watch a movie, shall we? - offered Otabek the first thing that came to his mind.

\- Good. It seems to be not difficult, - Yura smiled softly.


	4. Chapter 4

Otabek did not remember how he had fallen asleep under “Interstellar”, which Jura watched for the first time, and Beka himself did it for the fifth one. Therefore, Altin could not always help but comment the film, but Yura, it seemed, was not annoyed. On the contrary, he asked a lot of questions, having admitted that he did not understand anything in the structure of the Universe, and there Beck started… He had been talking about black holes, the theory of relativity, singularity and time for a long time. Plisetskiy had been listening to so carefully, opening his mouth slightly. Somewhere deep down in his soul Otabek was very proud of his ability to explain complex things easily and accessibly.

\- These are because of my younger sisters, - he said, when Yura also admired the skill of a proficient storyteller and advised him to become a teacher. – I often do Skype homework with them. I have to explain a lot. And as for teaching, this is almost a settled matter. I’m going to graduate, enter postgraduate studies. I already assist many professors. I’m so used to the university that I just can’t imagine that after the graduation it will be necessary to leave. I’ll have to stay.

Then they returned to the film. Beka, it seemed, began to advise Yura to read Stephen Hawking's books — that was, who, indeed, knew how to speak simply about complex things. And then Otabek fell asleep. He woke up late in the morning. Alone, in Dan's room.

On the second floor, where the bedrooms were, there was deathly silence. As if afraid of breaking it, Altin was moving carefully, as if in a minefield. In the bathroom he completely forgot about the confused taps and almost burned his hands. Of course, there was no toothbrush with him, and he had to improvise. After having rinsed his mouth with paste, straightened his overgrown locks and once again sprayed his face, swollen after sleep, with cold water, Otabek went in search of any life. As a real researcher, he entered the stairs, as if before jumping into the space-time tunnel.

The life showed up, of course, in the kitchen. Where else should it be? Yura, and it was definitely him, because Beck knew how to distinguish him from Denis at first sight, was sitting on a high chair by the window and reading ... Stephen Hawking. Mila was looming nearby, and the eyes caught on their own for her red mop of hair .

\- So much? - She asked Yura, demonstrating a measuring cup with some flour.

\- Yeah, - Yura shot a quick glance at the glass and almost returned to reading, but found Otabek standing in the doorway. - Hi! - He smiled. - And here we are preparing pies!

Mila turned around, looked at Beck very strange. Neither unkindly nor very joyfully either.

\- Well! “We,” - the girl was indignant. - I'm doing it all!

\- And I am in charge, - Yura smiled. - You don't know how. Beka, - he suddenly burst out of his chair, - do you want anything? Tea or coffee? Breakfast?

He suddenly became so fussed that Otabek became embarrassed. But he could not refuse some coffee with pancakes.

\- I also baked it, - the girl said with pride, furiously kneading the dough in a large ceramic bowl, more like a basin. - Under the leadership of Yura! - She snorted.

\- It's amazing that you look so good if you eat such food, - said Otabek, when Yura, having arranged the second breakfast for himself, because he could not deny another serving of pancakes, was pouring his plate with chocolate topping thickly .

\- This is so far Baranovskaya has not returned, - Mila answered. - Tomorrow she with Jacob will come from the seminar, and everyone will start to eat only salads. She is obsessed with proper nutrition, and makes us do so. - Damn, Yura.

\- M?

\- We don’t have cabbage, and I’m sure that cabbage is needed for pies with cabbage.

\- Yes, this is a true observation, - thought Plisetskiy. - Beck, are we driving to the store? Will you stay? Don't you have to go home till evening?

Yura looked at him almost pleadingly, so there simply couldn’t be any other options. Of course he would stay. Of course, they would go to the store. Of course, no important matters existed. And he would finish those which he had, at night, before the work. True, he didn’t say it to Yura. Why upset a person when he is smiling so sincerely?

***

\- Do you know what I’ve noticed? - Asked Yura, stepping “back” between the shelves with shoes and clothes, - the dude who picks up a playlist in “Ribbon” has an awesome musical taste!

Yura looked unusual. Always a melancholy and phlegmatic guy today broke all the records of cheerfulness. He talked a lot and became like Denis, though he never interrupted, unlike his second ego-personality.

\- Seriously, - Yura continued, miraculously not having stumbled upon a lady with a stroller filled with pads, shampoos and deodorants. – They turn on “Linkin Park”, “Depeche Mode”, and “U2” here. A lot of old melodic rock. And sometimes it happens, - his eyes flashed like emeralds, as if he was talking about a real miracle that he was able to see quite by chance - that, here I am listening to some song, moreover, let’s say, an old one and one that rarely anyone remembers right away, I come to "Ribbon", and it’s playing! Well?! Like from my playlist!

\- You need to get a promoter for “Ribbon,” - Otabek laughed, looking around. They suddenly came into the department with sports equipment. - Look, what discounts on roller-skates. For eight hundred you can buy .

\- Can you roller- skate? - asked Yura, suddenly frowning.

\- I can skate, but it's kind of the same principle. And you?

\- Dan can, -Yura answered gloomily, running a finger along the price tag, - and I ... well, like, like with a bike. Not very good, but I can stand.

\- Let's skate? - offered Otabek. – I have always wanted to try!

\- You’d better wait for Denis ...

\- And why is that? -Altin said sternly. - You should not do it professionally. We’ll just have some fun. For example, I’m not at all sure what to expect. Skates are skates. Maybe it won’t work out for me at all. Come on, Yura.

Plisetskiy hesitated briefly, then nodded.

Altin still did not buy the cheapest skates, but still was satisfied with the price, and Yura said that he would lend Dan’s ones. It was not very convenient to drive with a huge box with rollers and a whole backpack with cabbage, and other crap that Mila had asked for, especially on a sports bike. Beka missed his roomy Yamaha, in which case of it you could cram a bunch of everything.

For half a day they were making pies, chatting about nothing, from time to time teasing each other. Mila Babicheva turned out to be a funny girl, despite a small “schizo”. She washed her hands a hundred times a day. The table was wiped every other time. Taking into consideration that they were dealing with the flour, Babicheva grabbed a rag many times.

Dan joked that Jacob and Lily specially adopted a girl who was obsessed with cleanliness and order so as not to pay a housekeeper. And he said that had been already a “healed” option. Perfectionism was not such a problem as the desire to recount everything. As a child, Mila once sprinkled some rice and could not calm down until she counted all the rice. She could not go to bed or eat, cried, but she was counting, lost her count and was counting again.

\- It was creepy, - told Denis. - Then Vitya arrived and offered to count how many rice slices would be in a tablespoon, and then to count the leftovers with spoons. Only then did she calm down. Then it’s almost gone, only the cleanliness effect remained, but it was useful, so no one troubled.

\- Well, how are they? - Both Yura and Mila were looking at Otabek and did not seem to breathe.

He had the honorable opportunity to be the first to try the pie. It was strange to do it under the gaze of two pairs of eyes. Like under a microscope. But Altin gathered his strength and made the first bite.

\- Damn, these are the best cabbage pies I've eaten! - He did not lie. - True, very tasty. - Mila and Yura shone.

\- Well, now we can try them, - Plisetskiy joked, - so we won’t be poisoned.

After lunch, Mila began to scrub the kitchen, and Yura and Otabek began to gather back, in "Ribbon". They decided that the huge parking lot of the hypermarket was a great place to skate for those who were not very ready to show their perplexity in more suitable conditions for skaters.

Dan’s skates turned out to be of a leopard color, against which, Yura, oddly enough, had nothing. He said that he and Dan had one passion for two - cats and all cat’s manifestations.

\- By the way, do you want to meet Petya? - He asked, and immediately dragged Beck by the hand into his room.

Yura’s room, unlike Denis's one, was bright and somehow too standard. Right, or something. Patterned. This was not surprising, because Yura Plisetskiy tried in every possible way not to stand out and be like everyone else, not understanding that with such an appearance and such an inner world it was simply impossible. The only thing that impressed was the book shelves. They were all around the room. In the center there was an easel with an unfinished gloomy abstraction.

On the bed was lying a fluffy thoroughbred cat. It was seen that it was well-groomed and in love. Petya did not deign even to look at Beck, it immediately rolled over on its back, exposing the stomach to scratching.

\- Why is Petya? - Otabek asked, stroking a rumbling cat.

\- I wanted to call it Puma, and Dan - Tiger or Scorpio, - Yura answered, looking strangely at Beck. - As a result, we called it in different ways, the cat normally did not respond to any nicknames. In short, Petya emerged from all that, - Plisetskiy was embarrassed. – It is beautiful, isn’t it? - He asked, looking in love at the cat.

\- You are beautiful, Yura, - Beck thought. - Incredible.

***

It seemed to Otabek that roller-skating was harder than skating. The principle, indeed, was almost the same, but skates were somehow easier to control. In general, he quickly got used to them, he nearly screwed up a couple of times, having tripped over the roughness of the asphalt, but he stood on his feet. Yura was skating worse, but Beck didn’t let him fall, catching him on time. It was cool that the guy could be grabbed and touched without a twinge of conscience. He was very lacking it in communication with Yura. It’s like the face and body of your boyfriend, and that’s not him. Not really him. It was hard to get used to. But there wasn’t much choice.

Then they came to the rescue ... a shopping trolley. It was possible to rely on it and not be afraid of falling, feel the balance, understand the principle of the rollers. Yura was looked funny and pretty, cutting through the parking lot on roller skates with a trolley in an embrace, but he stopped being afraid and troubled.

The main thing was that Yura began to have fun and enjoy the process. At first he was moving slowly, frowningly, stooping and pursing his lips. Then he became happier and bolder.

They had been talking a lot about music. For a long time and with skill, as then with Dan about motorcycles. Yura complained that when Placebo arrived in Ice Palace, on the day of the performance of his favorite band, Denis “turned on”.

\- And he did not go, imagine! - Lamented the blond angel in the flesh. - If only he would take a photo or a video. And he, instead, went to drink with his friends. Do you know what the most annoying thing is? I have never drunk at all, but I often suffer from hangover!

\- Do you want to try? - suddenly asked Beck.

\- Try what? - Yura was surprised, and a crease formed on his nose.

\- Get drunk.

Yura very much doubted that he wanted to, but Altin somehow convinced him to keep him a company in gatherings with friends in nature. Otabek seemed to be important. He was not a psychologist, he was not glorified Nikiforov or the couple Baranovskaya-Feltsman, but for some reason he was sure that both guys: Yura and Dan should first be pulled out of their comfort zones. He wanted Yura to like Denis's hobbies and deeds, so that he would become more relaxed and stop being shy of himself. Denis, however, needed to bring down arrogance, to teach him dimension, to inculcate, hell with him, a good musical taste and to be taken to several exhibitions. They had to become each other. To stop to differ from each other, and then maybe that fucking merger would happen?!

The cart was forgotten, and Yura Plisetskiy was rapidly gaining speed, entering into a rage. Naturally, according to the law of the genre, as soon as you stop being afraid of falling, you fall. And so it happened, when Yura was rocked, he could not keep his balance and fell back, Otabek barely managed to catch him. The guy flattened in his arms in a pose, as if for a Hollywood kiss. He shook his head and ... stopped to be Yura.

\- Fuck it, what are we doing here, but it looks spectacular, - Denis burst out laughing, clinging to Otabek’s neck. - Hi, handsome, - he deftly rose to his feet, pulled up close to Altin and kissed him in the lips.

How that, fucking mother, was not enough! Beck didn’t even worry that someone could see them then. Do not care. Do not care about the audience when you were being kissed with such desired, delicious lips.

\- Well, what the hell are we doing here? - asked Dan, driving off.

He rode awesome. The rollers seemed to be an extension of his legs. A dramatic change. While Otabek was explaining what had happened, the second version of Plisetskiy was performing unrealistic feints. He also was frowning and angry. As expected, the friendship between Becky and Yura did not appeal to him.

\- Fuck, - he spat. – You’ve spent the night in my bed, and I was out! - He lamented.

\- Stop it, there was nothing. We’ve just watched “Interstellar”, - tried to calm Beck his jealous boyfriend.

\- This is my favorite movie, - Dan said quietly. - It's funny.

But his face did not at all look like he was amusing himself. Beck had to kiss him again in a public place. Denis thawed.

\- Maybe, you will stay with me today? - He asked when it was already getting dark, and his legs were buzzing and itching.

\- I want but I can not. I need to go to the university in the morning, change clothes, and deal with papers. Let’s do it on Friday, shall we?

\- You understand that I cannot guarantee my presence? - He grunted, shoving his fists into the pockets of his sweatshirt. - Okay, come on anyway, - he softened. - The fact that you are friends, - he practically spat out the word, - with Yura, has its advantages. - In any case, you are nearby ... True, he is a bore. How do you endure him?

\- He has a good musical taste, - Otabek shrugged. - And he doesn't interrupt when I am speaking.

\- Oh, that's it! Fuck you! - Dan was indignant, and Beka burst out laughing. - I listen to normal music!

\- Yura showed me your playlist! - mocked Otabek. - Loboda, really?

\- Your eyes , - the guy sang, grinning.

Beka painfully pursed his lips and rolled up his "eyes”.

Denis drove him to the hostel, and being in the passenger role again seemed a little strange. They said goodbye for a long time in the dark gateway, kissing selflessly, without getting off the bike. In the evening, while Otabek was preparing for the working week and corresponded with Dan, he noticed that he added to VK Placebo’s and IAMX’s couple of songs. Altin took that as a small victory.


	5. 5

\- Meet my best friend and your drawing teacher, Sarah Crispino, - said Otabek importantly, dragging Dan to the girl.

Denis frowned. He put his hands in his pockets and twisted his lips. However, Altin did not expect another reaction. It’s already good that Dan agreed to come and try, even if it had cost Beck a few days of persuasion. Denis still denied that he had never been an artist, and like Yura, he would never draw.

\- You should not do it, like Yura! - tried to explain to him Otabek. - This is creativity in that you can do as you want. And you want, I know. You must not necessarily become Van Gogh! Just ... have fun.

Sarah began with the basics: hatching, perspectives. She talked about the fact that all objects are in space, as if enveloped by it, harmoniously fit into it and obey its laws. She said that, as much as he would like to start drawing masterpieces as soon as possible, it was necessary to master three basic figures - a triangle, a square and a circle. And then their three-dimensional forms. They started with a cube.

\- That is, we will be drawing small squares for an hour… - Dan was upset, fidgeting impatiently on the chair.

\- Yes, - Sarah said sternly, adjusting her glasses. - But so that you would not be bored, we will arrange a competition for the best square.

Dan liked the competition, and Otabek liked Dan, so they were selflessly drawing lines, trying to maintain "smoothness", that is, to highlight those faces of the cube that were closer to the viewer, thereby creating the effect of finding the cube in space. Then Sarah complicated the task. In front of one cube, it was necessary to draw another one.

\- The key word is “in front of,'”- Sarah explained busily. - Everything is exactly the same as we have done before, but now the second one is closer to us. And we must highlight it more clearly than the first, so that our already created space on the sheet is preserved.

Otabek could hardly restrain a smile, noting with his lateral vision how Dan was puffing over his cubes. With seeing zeal, he was sticking out the tip of his tongue and tracing it over his dry lips, which was distracting Altin from his own cubes. At Sarah’s presence he could not be shy. She would have reacted normally, if Beck had succumbed to the temptation and raked Plisetskiy in an armful. She had already seen Otabek's passionate kisses with guys, but he did not want to interfere Dan with his desires. Looking at how he had been inspired. Beck would be able to kiss him later.

There were three cubes later. Then five. Ten. When they completely filled the sheets with cubes of different sizes and differently spaced from each other, Sarah announced that was enough for today.

\- And who’s won? - Asked Dan.

Miss Crispino meticulously examined their creations and assigned victory to Denis.

\- And what is my prize?

\- Beka will buy you some ice cream, - the girl shrugged.

\- Okay. This’s done.

***

\- Uh-uh, - Yura backed away, but Otabek grabbed hold of his elbow and prevented him from escaping. – You’ve brought me to the paint festival? A crowd of inadequate people, everything, as I like, damn it, - he scoffed.

\- And, in my opinion, it will be cool! - supported Altin’s idea Mila. - I read, there you can even get henna drawings!

Plisetskiy sighed heavily. That was not what he’d expected when Beck wrote that he had prepared a surprise for him with Mila. He didn’t say where they were going to, he only warned that it’d be advisable to put on something that would not be a pity to spoil.

The action was taking place in “Kirovets”, and, yes, there were a lot of people, but Otabek just wanted that. For a week he had been dragging Denis along deserted streets or serious events: contemporary art exhibitions, theaters and art cafes. And they continued drawing lessons with Sarah. And that, however, helped. Dan became more thoughtful, learned to listen to and hear the interlocutor gradually, even read the whole book. By Burroughs, however, only because it was called "Gay," but he’d read it nevertheless! And he and Otabek could talk about it, exchange opinions. And then, Beka was also planning to get off the ground Yura. The first stage was that festival of paints. Cheerful and perky. Then he wanted to take him to his friends to the country and made him thoroughly “drunk”. The third step was to go to some kind of night club. In general, that Denis liked and Yura did not accept.

If it were not for their delicate situation, Otabek would certainly not have done so. He was not a supporter of changing people. He firmly believed that a person should be loved as he was. And he loved. But there were two of them, and he needed one. He had to improvise. Although, Altin, in fact, got used to such an extraordinary feature of his boyfriend / friend. Moreover, the guys stopped with sudden “switching on|off”. For a couple of weeks they had been living as if on a schedule: two in two, replacing each other in the morning.

At first, Otabek had an idea to consult with Viktor Nikiforov, so as not to make things worse inadvertently, but somehow he did not dare, continuing to rely on his own intuition. In his head, Beck represented Yura-Denis as an uncut diamond, on which he carried out some jewelry work. It was necessary not only to reveal new faces in both ego-personalities, but also not to cross the line. If Yura wanted something new, really, he himself wanted to become more alive and crawl out from behind book shelves into the light of day, but he was banally afraid, then Denis could freak out. He was much more jealous of his personality, so all those "impositions" of Yura’s hobbies had to be presented gently and casually. It’s as if Altin didn’t have a five-year plan for three years, but simply a sudden idea to visit a historical museum, because “I have long wanted to go there , well, keep me company, Dan, please.”

\- Come on, boldly, I’ll be with you, everything will be fine, - Beck promised, dragging still doubting Yura by the hand inside. - If you don’t like it, we will leave, I promise.

\- I don’t like it anymore, - Yura muttered, tugging at his shoulder, but dutifully trudged after Milka, not letting Otabek’s hand out of his hand.

In addition to the main entertainment - paint fights, there were many other goodies at the fest, for example, performances of cover groups and DJs from different cities. Otabek had a DJ set in the evening himself, but so far he did not report that to his companions. Mila, as planned, hung at the place where a nice girl with red dreadlocks was painting with henna. They left her there, agreeing to meet at a certain place with fast food.

\- Wow, cool, - Yura said, looking at a girl of about five, whose face was painted with tiger’s make-up.

\- Let’s make it to your face too, - Beck offered.

\- Oh well ... it's for children, - said Yura with regret.

\- Well, I don’t know, I just want to, - Altin shrugged. - What do you think I’ll draw? A wolf, maybe?

\- A bear, - Yura uttered back.

\- Okay.

To the make-up there was a long line of children and adolescents, so Otabek suggested that Yura should deal with his face himself. Having bought some make-up, they settled down on the lawn, forgetting about time. Yura was so close, was touching Otabek’s face with his tassels so gently, that he wanted to whine from that intimacy. It was still necessary to choose a wolf. He was just ready to howl, because Yura, like Denis, too, oblivious, was protruding the tip of his tongue like a cat. And Beck wanted to catch it so much.

\- I was tired of looking for you! - Muttered Mila, who approached them. Her hands were adorned with intricate mehendi patterns. - Wow, cool.

When Otabek looked at Yura’s work in the front-end, he could not but agree it’s cool. One half of his face was indeed painted as a bear, and the other one was as a skull. It did not look childish at all, but very gloomy and aggressive.

\- And now you, - said Beck and Mila with one voice.

And there were no more excuses for Plisetskiy. He was not drawn animals’ faces, but simply his hands and half of his face were decorated with leopard spots. They made a lot of pictures and selfies, and then Otabek still dragged them to the "colorful fights without rules." Yura was laughing so fervently, sprinkling everyone around with paints from colored bags that Beck even felt sorry for leaving them. But the time came for his performance. The last surprise.

He went out to the turntables right there, in the make-up and from head to toe stained with paints, with great mood and desire to blow up the dance floor. He wanted to impress, of course, a specific person, but everyone was kneaded. He was then told for a long time that it was his best performance.

\- Damn it, Beka! It was cool! - Yura chatted enthusiastically on the back seat in a taxi. - If I could dance, I would definitely muddle something like that under the last ... how is it?

\- “Welcome to Madness”.

\- Exactly. Will you throw it to me?

I will. And you will dance. I promise.

He went to spend the night to them. That had already become a Friday tradition, regardless of who Otabek had been spending time with, Yura or Denis. If the body was ruled by Yura, then after some movie, the guy left for his room. If Denis had ... then everything was very hot. At first, Lilia Baranovskaya, whose image in Otabek’s mind was associated more with a prison guard than a psychologist who could be trusted and revealed, did not have a very positive attitude to Altin’s presence in their house every weekend, but soon she softened.

\- I’ve never seen him smile so much, - she once said at tea.

\- Who exactly? - Beck specified then.

\- Both.

Today, neither she nor Yacob was in again, so after washing and having a bite, and thanking Otabek for such an exciting and funny day, Mila quickly ran to some hockey friends, whom, as it was said by Baranovskaya, to communicate with, and even late at night, “ it was not fitting for a young lady. "

\- Watching “Cloud Atlas”? - offered Yura.

They both washed and changed clothes, but Yura’s contented smile didn’t disappear anywhere, which responded with gentle warmth and trembling inside.

The last time they did not watch the film because Yura fell asleep. Otabek had fallen asleep the time before.

\- Some kind of a damned movie, - Beka said, feeling hot lips on his neck. – Hi, Dan.

\- Am I in time?

Otabek pulled the guy to him and hungrily kissed as he had wanted all day. In time, the wrong word. Lord, how unbearable it was when you could touch and kiss the most desirable body in the world exclusively according to a chaotic schedule.

Denis climbed on top and pulled off Yura’s T-shirt, showing in the dim light of only one monitor a slender body with ivory skin.

\- Admit that he will not surpass me in this, - he growled, glaring his teeth at Otabek’s Adam's apple.

\- Hey, don’t pull out my larynx, take it easy, tiger.

\- Beck, - he suddenly tensed as the laptop screen went blank and total darkness reigned in the room.

\- M? What? - Otabek asked, imprinting Dan in himself.

\- I…

\- Dan?

\- I love you, that’s it, - he chattered in one breath. - You can not answer. I understand if you don’t ...

\- Well, - Otabek found weathered lips. - Again, do not let the words be said?

\- Sorry…

\- I love you too. Very much.

\- True?

\- True.

And that was it. True.


	6. 6

Finally, everything has coincided! Otabek had a weekend, the weather was conducive to outdoor recreation, his friends were all assembled, and Yura ruled Plisetskiy’s body. The previous two weekends something had been wrong invariably: either it had been raining, or Dan had not been the one whom Beck wanted to drag into the forest so obsessively and drink well, though Beck was pleased with his presence, Yura himself did not share Altin’s enthusiasm and came up with an excuse for an excuse.

\- I'm afraid of insects!

\- I have some great repellent .

\- I’ve never drunk ....

\- Great opportunity to try.

\- Is it necessary?

\- Yes.

\- What if your friends won't like me?

\- Come on, you're a charm.

Yura did not know what to wear, what to take, how to behave, he ached that he was embarrassed, whimpering: “Let's cancel, Beka, well, please!” But Altin was unshakable, and finally they gathered in a premium birch-oak forest, not far from Lomonosov, by the way. From the whole company, Yura knew only Sarah, and not very well, but Dan had managed to make friends with the girl thanks to painting courses, which he began attending with undisguised pleasure. Each time he turned out better and better, although he did not reach Yura’s paintings. Oddly enough, they lacked courage. In life, Yura Plisetskiy was afraid to cross borders and express his "I", but on the canvases he gained freedom. His personality, gloomy worldview oozed from every stroke. Dan was more technical, but cluttered in decisions and content.

Besides Sarah, Beck’s several friends from his faculty among whom was Georgy Popovich gathered at that party. Georgy was Altin's senior comrade. He was a couple of years older and then became a young teacher, but earlier, when he was still studying, he had often helped Beck with exams, telling about each teacher’s features, and in general was a good guy with stormy imagination and passion for theatrical manners. In his student years, he went to some theater club, and, having graduated, began to help the director of the theater studio. Like Otabek, Gosha lived and breathed university, geology, students and St. Petersburg. Beka missed his neighborhood. Then Popovich rented an apartment, and before they had shared a room in a hostel together.

Gosha knew about Otabek’s preferences, somehow guessed himself and treated that at first delicately, then - with humor, then - nothing at all. Moreover, that was probably the best position. Popovich did not have “tolerance” or “liberality”, he did not tolerate anything, and he simply did not care. He himself had a long saga with some girl Anya, with whom they had parted. Today, Gosha came in the company of a certain Daria, a quiet, inconspicuous girl.

Sarah brought a couple of friends from her faculty, and Beka allowed Yura to invite Mila in order to have more familiar faces, hoping that the guy would relax faster.

\- I’ll make a fire! - announced Olga, one of Sarah’s friends.

Beck had known that girl for a long time. Short and chubby, very cheerful and nice, and most importantly, she knew how to make a fire even when it was raining. Even using raw logs. And the logs were really damp, so no one argued. She also roasted meat better than any man, so that action was also on her.

\- Well, how are you? - Otabek crouched on a log next to silent Yura. - Is everything good? Haven’t you frozen? Have not mosquitoes prevailed?

Everyone else was doing their own business. Someone was laying the "table", someone was tuning music, someone was smoking and chattering aside. Altin really wanted Yura to like it, but he didn’t want to push. He had been already doing it. Each time that they were together, he pressed every minute, forcing him to get out of a cozy shell in the scorching sun. If someone had behaved that way with Otabek, he would have been angry for a long time and would have sent that wise guy to hell. But Yura listened to and tried very hard, as if he himself understood how important that was.

\- I'm fine, thanks, - he muttered, smiling faintly.

\- Well, people, who is drinking what? - Yelled Popovich, rummaging through the bags. - Yura? Beck? Mila?

Mila asked for some wine, Otabek – some cognac. Plisetskiy looked questioningly at his friend.

\- I guess ... maybe, like you? - he asked.

\- If you want, let’s mix some cognac with some cola, so as not it to be very strong?

\- Come on. I like cola.

They decided on that.

Organizational moments quickly came to an end, people gradually   
“burst into flames”. Dances, songs, funny stories began. Plisetskiy's cheeks were getting pinker and pinker, the smile was growing wider and more relaxed. One of Beck’s classmates sat down on Yura’s ears nobly, talking about his “hard” life to the most patient listener.

\- Misha, fuck yourself, well? - kindly asked Otabek. - Let the person relax, what are you driving yourself?

Yura began to protest, saying that everything was fine, but Misha burst out laughing, said that, yes, he had driven himself somehow, and went in search of a new victim. Yura gratefully looked at Otabek and drank cola with cognac.

Somewhere girls began screeching and with the cries of a "snake" jumped out of the bushes. The evil snake turned out to be a small-hearted little adder. Then someone took out badminton. To play in the woods was not the best idea. The same Misha turned out to be affected who, in an attempt to repulse the pitch, hit a head in a tree. Everyone was frightened, because his blood was oozing from the abrasion, but Misha insisted that he was in perfect order. As evidence, he joined the bonfire dance.

\- My ass has already taken the form of a log, - Yura complained to Altin.

\- Let's go for a walk, - the latter offered.

Otabek brought Yura to a small clearing in the forest, spread a blanket that he’d thought of taking with him, and pulled an eared bottle from his backpack. He lit a cigarette and took a sip, but did not offer it to Yura, but the boy reached for the bottle himself. Beck did not object, did not say that maybe he should not go too far. Let him do what he wanted, what he liked, even if it was wrong and unreasonable.

Having taken a sip, Yura grimaced and gave the cognac back to Beck, then he also lit a cigarette, staring at the sky, on which the stars were already dancing. They were beautiful and fascinating, but inferiored in beauty and charm to the guy sitting next to him. In the twilight, Yura looked indescribably. His hair was almost glowing, his slightly numbed eyes were burning with something new. Previously, Otabek had not observed such lively sparkles in the beloved eyes. He did not immediately notice that Yura had also given up contemplating the night sky and was examining his face.

\- You are very beautiful, you know? - Yura asked in a distant voice and extended his hand to Beck's face. - I’m still trying to draw you, but it doesn’t work out, - he was driving his fingertips across Altin’s cheekbones and speaking in a hypnotic voice. - It seems that I am drawing you as you are, with fine lines, sharp cheekbones, slanting eyes, and it comes out rude and does not look like you at all. I can’t figure out what makes your face soft. This is probably something internal. The way you are looking at me. The way you are touching. Your touches burn, Beck. It's amazing that there are no burns left.

Otabek tried not to breathe, so as not to spoil the very moment that he had been waiting for so long. Come on, Yura. Do it! You want it, I see! And let me be even a little ashamed, that for the sake of that I had to resort to alcohol, but how else? Altin needed him all. Whether Plisetskiy had a third person or twenty-third one, he needed them all.

They needed to cross that line, and Yura himself had long been on the border. A week ago, Beck fell asleep with Den, and woke up with Yura. He pretended to just turn on, but that was not so. Otabek felt at night that another guy was pressing against him, but did not say anything. He simply sleepily embraced trembling Yura in response, kissed the top of his head, being afraid that if he moved on to more impatient caresses, the boy would be frightened and would mean “substitution”. Yura was drawn to him. No matter how he tried to hide it, he was drawn. And Otabek tried not to push, to pretend that he did not notice it, then filling in the missing with Denis. Yura had to do it himself. And he finally did.

Their first kiss came out timid and inept. It was strange that the same lips when Denis was using them, were doing incredible things, were driving crazy, were turning off the heads and making feel too much, but when the lips “belonged” to Yura, the sensations were different. Otabek felt like a schoolboy and thief a little. As if he was stealing what he was not entitled to. Something personal and very valuable. He stole Yura’s first-ever conscious kiss , and no one else would ever be able to get it. It intoxicated more than cognac or any other alcohol. Moreover, Yura quickly figured out what was happening, and the kisses slowly began to grow into adults’ and greedy ones.

He himself pushed Otabek, and he fell on his back, dragging the most coveted guy in the world with him. Hovering over him, Yura hesitated, but then Altin did not give him time to think, and found delicious wet lips. They had been kissing for about twenty minutes, and somehow imperceptibly Yura was already under Otabek. He wrapped Beck around with his arms and legs, clinging so tightly, as if being afraid to fall, although they were lying on the ground, but both had a feeling of falling.

And then it all ended, because suddenly his jealous boyfriend “turned on” and gave Altin a heavy slap in the face. For some reason, Beck did not think about such an incident. That had happened more than once, when Yura appeared during kisses. Then they pretended that everything was fine and played friendship until Dan came again. But then the situation was reversed, and Denis definitely did not like that his boyfriend was kissing Yura.

\- Denis, - Beck began, ignoring the blood running from his nose, for Den had beaten with all his might, but he was clearly not going to listen to anything.

\- Damn it, shit! - Yelled Dan. - What the fucking fuck? Beck ?! You ... you ...

He waved his hand and strode off somewhere, clearly in the first direction. Otabek quickly stuffed everything into the backpack and followed him. On the one hand, he understood Denis's disappointment. Surely, it hurt to wake up like that and find your beloved kissing with another, but ... it was not different in the generally accepted sense. It was still Plisetskiy’s body ! Only Dan himself thought otherwise.

\- Where are we, damn it?! - Den roared, hiding evil tears, looking around.

\- Do you understand that you are angry, because I’ve supposedly cheated on you with you? - said Otabek, turning the guy to him, holding by the shoulders tightly.

\- Let go! Asshole! Let me go! - He was strong, and it was difficult to keep him.

\- Denis ... no, Yura, stop it, - said Otabek firmly.

\- This is not my name! - The guy hissed, sparkling with his eyes.

\- Yours. This is your beautiful name, which is very suitable for you. Stop it please. Don’t freak out. I love you very much. I love you all, the whole. Why are you keeping stubborn?

It seemed to Altin for a moment that it had worked, that the rebellious ego-personality began to realize that the difference between them was not great, that they could get along very well, that it was quite normal to love them both. And that cannot be otherwise. But it only seemed so.

\- Take your hands off me! - growled Denis. - And you don't dare touch me, okay? - He added, stepping back maliciously. – You’ve made your choice, Beck. Wishing you many happy years to come! If you want Yura, get Yura. And I won’t stay alone for long, okay?

\- Dan ...

\- Already Dan again? - He grunted. - Tell this damn bore that our contract for the use of the body has been terminated. This is the war, guys. Go to hell! Both!

That time Denis was walking in the right direction, and Otabek was trudging after him, not knowing what to say. He seemed to have ruined everything. The whole plan had fallen apart right before his eyes. What will Denis do now? Go all the way? Beck didn’t even want to think about it, but was thinking. Imagination clearly depicted how the love of all his life would give himself to the first guy that came across. The fact that Dan had such a plan for “punishment", Altin had no doubt. He could not allow that. Not.

Otabek grabbed opposing Denis again, pressed him firmly to the first tree that came across and having grabbed his tense chin, looked into the eyes throwing sparks.

\- Yura, - he called. - Yurochka, come back to me, I am begging, - Beka knew that it didn’t work like that, but what else to think of? He needed to return the most adequate half of his boyfriend until the inadequate one had done any stupid things. - Yura, I need you. Yura, please, darling ...

Denis was taken aback. His eyes were wide and moist. Otabek understood that then he was just making a control shot in the head. Overwhelming pain and disappointment were reflected on the guy's face. He did not expect such betrayal, but he calmed down, went limp. Bitter tears streamed down his cheeks. Otabek swallowed, realizing that he himself was about to cry.

Denis's lips were trembling; he was trying to say something, but could not. In fact, Altin did not count on that at all. He hoped that at his first call Yura would “turn on”, and together they would figure out how to reassure Denis, how to convince him that everything was right, everything was as it should be. In fact, everything turned out just awful.

\- To die ...

\- What? - Asked Otabek, thinking he had misheard.

\- I want to die, - Dan said, swallowing tears. – Let me go, please. I'm dying now. Why is it so painful, Beck? Why are you doing this to me?

\- Well, Lord! - Otabek howled, not knowing where to put him and how to fix that horror. - Please, - he begged, not knowing to anyone. - My kitten, my beloved, bunny, - he began to lick the tears from Den’s twisted with agony face. - I love you, do you hear? I love you so much! Well, what are you...

Denis did not respond. There was such a void in his eyes that it became completely scary and uneasy.

\- What the fuck have I done?! - Altin gave up trying to kiss to death silent Denis and sank to the ground. He covered his head with his hands and sobbed.

He broke them. Broke them both in an attempt to fix! Why only he had dared to do it! Why did he try to improve perfection? Why didn’t leave everything as it was? How to return everything as it was?

\- Beck, - Yura called softly and sat down beside him. – What’s happened?

Otabek began weeping in a voice. The fact that Yura returned gave him at least some respite, but that did not change what had happened. What shall he do now?


	7. Chapter 7

It turned out that the scene in the forest was only the beginning of the disaster. Then everything became worse, growing like a snowball. First, Jura fell into hysteria, having realized what had happened. He was not himself, did not find a place for himself, emotionally declared that he was sorry that he did not want that to have happened, that he and Beck must stop going along with, because he did not want to take away Denis’s guy and so on. Otabek’s tired attempts to explain to Plisetskiy that it’s impossible to take the guy away from himself were unsuccessful, and he almost quarreled with Yura.

Then Mila made the scene, seeing her tearful brother, when he and Beck came for the girl and announced that they urgently needed to go home. The tipsy friends annoyed much, they bombarded questions and were persuading everyone to stay. And there Yura with Dan began to “wedge”. They began to replace each other almost every five minutes. Babicheva fell into a real panic, began to go circling, and Otabek worried that her cuckoo would be leaving too. He somehow persuaded one of the non-drinking friends to take the three of them away urgently and not to pay attention to the scenes. And there were scenes, oh yes!

Mila was sitting on the front seat next to the driver and crying without stopping at all. Otabek barely got from her Victor Nikiforov's address, because he reasoned that it would be better to contact him immediately. To be honest, he was afraid of Baranovskaya and Feltsman. But Babicheva’s tears were flowers in comparison with that how Denis was yelling when turning on from time to time. He bit and scratched and nearly jumped out of the car at full speed. Altin did not have the slightest idea how to explain it all to a fucked driver, but that was less of his interest now.

When they got to Nikiforov’s house, a friend, probably having regretted that he had agreed to bring the crazy trinity left, hurriedly. Otabek seemed to have lost one of his comrades. Well, to hell with him. Then he needed to do everything so as not to lose the love of all his life.

\- Beck, - Yura had been remaining in his own body for about fifteen minutes and seemed to calm down.

\- Everything will be fine, - Altin promised, dragging the brother and the sister by the hand. Mila sobbed again.

Victor had already been sleeping, so he didn’t open soon, but Otabek pounded on the door so persistently that he would wake the dead one as well. Having explaining confusedly what had happened, he looked imploringly at a disheveled man, and his heart stopped for a moment. Vitya had no idea what to do. That was evident by his dumbfounded look. But, thank God, he pulled himself together. He led everyone to the kitchen, set the kettle on. At first, he started with Babicheva, because Yura, though nervous, gloomy and gloomy, was quiet. He was sitting silently, staring at one point.

\- What is it, Vitya?

A sleepy guy in glasses and a stretched T-shirt appeared in the doorway. He rubbed his eyes under his glasses and began to look at the uninvited guests in surprise.

\- Oh, Yuri, honey, go to sleep. These are ... patients.

But Yuri didn’t go anywhere. Later, when Mila came to her senses slightly, he took on the role of a hospitable host and led the sluggishly resisting girl to sleep. And then he did it with Otabek, because Nikiforov made it clear that Altin had already done things, and then he had better not be got in the way.

At the insistence of this Yuuri, who, during a short conversation, said that he had come from Japan, and he was Vitya’s ... “student” (yeah, student, how so! Because of those words, the guy turned so red that it immediately became clear what he was here), Otabek lay down in bed, but there was no question of any dream. About ten minutes later, the sound of breaking dishes was heard, and Beck rushed back. In the doorway he again ran into a "student".

\- Fuck off, old fucker! - yelled Dan, throwing another rolled up plate into the wall. – Fuck off with your hypnosis and your psychoanalysis. I'm not crazy, okay?! I'm normal! I ... Beck ...

Victor turned and saw Otabek having frozen in the doorway. Yuuri tried to take him away.

\- Dan, - said Otabek, barely audible, pushing the Japanese away. - Let's talk. Calmly. Please!

\- Come on, - but that didn't sound calm. - You are making a choice now. Once and for all, - he said coldly. - Me or him. And it will be ... calm, - he spat.

\- I can’t, - Otabek began, but he was interrupted by another scream.

\- ME, DAMN, OR HIM? OTABEK?!

\- It doesn't work that way, Denis. I love both of you and ...

\- Then he is. I understood. Because it does not work THAT WAY, Beck.

\- Denis ...

\- Shut up, okay ?! - He roared, clutching his head. - I'm fine. Everything is fine... I'm calm. I won’t do anything stupid, - he assured Nikiforov. – We’ve figured it out. Where can I go to bed?

\- Um, now, - Victor began, but Yura was back on the air.

\- I heard everything, - he whispered dumbfounded, looking at Nikiforov with all his eyes. - I heard his every word, Vitya. I felt his emotions ... and he was in great pain. This has not happened before .... I always ... disappeared, and now I ... as if from the viewing ...

\- Yes, and I, - said Denis.

They began to be turned on and off, as if in a horror movie, and then Victor decided that he could not do without a strong sedative, although he did not want to resort to it, as Plisetskiy had alcohol in his blood. Both Plisetskys perceived that idea negatively, so Beck and Yuuri had to “hold them”. When the body went limp, Altin carried “them” to bed.

\- Well, you’ve done things, man, - Nikiforov said, looking at the sleeping Plisetskiy.

\- Can it be fixed? - Asked Otabek plaintively.

\- I don't know, - Victor admitted honestly. – Perhaps their feelings to you will unite them. And perhaps they will quarrel even more. Let's see what will happen when they wake up. And pray to God that what was happening that night would not happen again.

***

Plisetskiy woke up as Jura. Beck, who refused to leave the room flatly, was both glad and not. On the one hand, his psyche could not stand another scandal, and on the other one, he wanted to make peace with Dan. Although he did not know how to do it. Therefore, a delay would not hurt anyone. But Yura, it seemed, decided to keep up with his second personality, starting the morning with a showdown. More precisely, it’s not that with clarifications…

\- What have we done, Beck, - was the very first thing he said since waking up. - And now what shall we do now?

\- We’ve done nothing terrible, - Altin answered, sitting down on the bed.

He woke up much earlier, and he didn’t really sleep, he was spinning past events in his head like that, scolding himself for not having foreseen such an obvious alignment. It was necessary to prepare Dan better, it was necessary to slowly and smoothly bring him to the fact that Yura was as important for Otabek as he was. And Beka was hiding behind friendship at the slightest outburst of Denis’s jealousy.

\- Yura, we’ve recognized the obvious thing. We’ve expressed that we have long felt for each other.

He took the guy's face swollen after sleep and tears, kissed his nose, stroked his hair. The tenderness that Yura evoked in him filled every cell of the body. Lord, what Zemfira sang, suffocating from tenderness, turned out to be a reality. It was impossible to drown so much in emotions. Till yesterday, Altin still somehow held on, because with Yura such manifestations could not be allowed. And when it became possible ... it was too much. Denis diluted such trepidation, adding to the subtle cordiality the gamut of other bright feelings, which made everything somehow easier, more understandable, not so sensual.

\- I more than love you, - said Otabek fascinated. - Love is too insignificant in comparison with what I feel for you, Yura.

Yura smiled weakly and blushed. He lowered his eyelashes, rubbed his cheek on Otabek's palm.

\- And I love you, - he whispered almost with his lips.

\- True? - Asked Otabek, feeling a strange deja vu.

\- True. Very much.

Altin did not dare to kiss him, still equating Yura to some holy deity who was not worth spotting, but Yura himself did not consider himself such, so he touched Otabek’s palm with his lips, in which his pretty face was still resting, easily and simply. Altin was trembling. Too much. That was overkill.

\- I still can’t believe that you’ve chosen me, - Yura smiled.

What? Chosen? What does it mean to “choose”?! Otabek was hit again under the breath. Your mother-fucker well, no, ee! And you there too! Is it worth breaking the moment and saying that he hasn’t chosen anyone? Or repeat the mistake and leave Yura in his error?

\- He's just cool, - continued Yura. - It seems to me that he is even prettier! I understand how stupid it sounds, but beauty comes from within, and ... Beck?

\- Come here!

Otabek jumped out of bed and pulled Yura along. Put him in front of the mirror, embracing from back.

\- What do you see, Yura?

\- Um ... a tearful, swollen, skinny guy? - He asked in a misunderstanding.

\- I see a great guy, Yura, - Beck whispered into his ear. - Talented, kind, funny, outcast, sexy, timid, daring, strong, vulnerable, sensual, gentle, rude, soft, decisive, indecisive, stubborn, accommodating, belligerent, brave, smart - it's all you. Do you understand? You are. All of these qualities are yours. Not yours and his, but only yours, - Plisetskiy jerked in his hands, trembling like a caught bird. - You understand that, understand that?

Yura nodded, but turned away from the mirror, having buried his face into Otabek’s neck. Apparently, understanding and accepting were two different things.

\- I want to be him, - Plisetskiy spoke somewhere in Beck’s sleepy plexus, - to be this guy you are talking about, but I can't do it, Beck. But I understand you. And ... I will not hysteria because of him, I promise. If ... if you can figure it out and ... he will accept it, I'm ready. Not just for you, but for him. I felt how bad he was. It is unbearably painful for him to lose you. But for me too. I need you. You are needed for me so much, - he sobbed. - And I want to try everything that I was afraid to imagine before. Try with you. And you?

\- Of course, Yura. Of course. So do I.

\- Okay.

\- Okay.

When the guys woke up “officially” and crawled out for public viewing under Vitya’s, Yuri’s and Mila’s cautious and worried glances, Nikiforov, without hesitation, dragged Yura to therapy. After it, he announced that they would not say anything to Lily and Yakov, unless, of course, Dan appeared in his usual role and gave out a scandal with giblets. They decided on that, but Den had not been observed suspiciously for a long time.

Otabek’s and Jura’s relationship developed from the word opposite to swiftness. They spent a lot of time, however, as always, together. Walked, watched TV shows, chatted and ate junk food. Then in their lives there were also kisses, but no more. Plisetskiy did not initiate the continuation, Beck wasn’t insistent either, because Yura for him was still a virgin angel, whom it was simply a sin to seduce, but to kiss was sweet.

Almost two weeks have passed. On the nose there was the first of September, but Dan didn’t appear. And it was very alarming for everyone. Could he not completely disappear? Or could he? Victor assumed that then when Yura was happy, he simply did not need the second personality. But that, too, was not like the cherished “merger”. Otabek missed his previous boyfriend very much. He was fine with Yura, but as in fog. Stormy emotions led to a headache, the absence of sexual discharge led to pain in the eggs. Something was still like calmness before the storm.

After the line on Knowledge Day, during which Otabek looked after freshmen and then gave them a tour around the university, handed out student ID cards and explained how to use the electronic schedule, Altin dialed Yura habitually, intending, as usual, to agree on plans for the evening. But Denis answered him, which was strange, because the guys never took each other's phones. Each had his own.

\- It's me, - he said in his impudent, cocky manner. - Don't call me anymore. When he returns, he will call.

\- Denis! - Gooses bumps ran down Otabek’s back. How he’s missed him. - We need to talk. Let's meet?

\- No, Beck. Not necessary. - He sounded calm and decisive. - It's over with us. There is nothing to talk about.

\- I miss you very much, - Beck made another attempt.

\- Well, who is to blame for you having chosen a bore? - Dan grunted. - It's not my problem that you are bored with him and want someone more vigorously.

\- You miss me too, I know. Let's meet. We can solve something …

\- Will you leave him? - Denis sharply asked, obviously angry.

\- No, but…

\- That's all. Come on.

He dropped the call and did not answer the calls anymore.

Then everything began to resemble what the three of them had had at the very beginning, however, from a rearrangement of the places of the terms, contrary to the well-known rule, the amount changed. They began to "switch on" as before, either suddenly and abruptly, or in the morning. One had been present for a long time, then the other had. The difference was that Denis did not go to any contact. If he “turned on” when Beka was with Yura, then he simply left or, if they were in the house in Lomonosovo, drove Altin out. And Otabek did not dare to argue with him on his territory, since Baranovskaya managed to sniff out the details of the castling. And the same Vitya had passed them all, unable to resist this imperious, dry woman. Then Lilia tried to prevent Beck from communicating with both of her wards, despite the fact that Nikiforov insisted that Alyns’s methods, though not standard, but helped at least some kind of shift in the Plisetskys’s consciousness, in contrast to long-term therapy. Then Yura for the first time in his life expressed a firm “no”, saying that he himself was able to decide who he should communicate with and whom to love. Otabek was very proud of him that day. He looked so warlike and confident. Almost like Denis. Nearly…

Otabek did not leave attempts to reach the intractable guy. Wrote notes to him, declarations of love, sent tearful VK songs, but in response there was always ignore. One could only guess what Denis did in his time, but Yura said that he had never woken up in other people's beds or in his own, but with strangers. Milka, who talked with Dan, as before, also swore that he was not seen with the other guys. But it still annoyed.

\- Beck? - Yura pulled him out of heavy thoughts. They watched “Very Strange Things”, but Altin was more interested in their own “strange things”, therefore he constantly “fell into himself”, losing the plot thread.

\- Mmm?

\- Why are we ... not. you, - Yura suddenly burst into paint and was embarrassed. - Why don’t you want me ?! - He said in one breath.

Because I'm afraid to die from an overabundance of feelings literally? Because I'm afraid to touch you again? Spoil the beautiful thing? How can I explain this so that it does not sound like nonsense or an absurd excuse for a guy who does not even consider himself cool, like his second ego-personality?

\- Um ... well, uh ... I want, of course, I want! - Otabek said somehow, swallowing. - Just ... are you sure ... you want it yourself? Are you ready ...

\- Yes, with you, - Yura nodded confidently, shaking a shock of blond hair. - I want everything with you, I told you, - he added quietly, staring at his nails, which they still painted with black varnish, two on each hand. – I’ve read everything on this subject. And I understand that for the first time it can be painful, but I'm ready, really.

What? Painfully? It didn’t even immediately come to Altin what he meant. He was so used to that Dan was always in an active role that he didn’t even pretend to be something like that, taking that alignment of things for granted. And no matter what he wanted there. Everything suited them and the way it was.

\- What about your agreement with Denis ...? - Otabek asked carefully. - You shouldn't ... not necessarily ...

\- I want like this. Are you against?

Against?!!!

\- No, what are you ... just ... hey what are you doing? - But Yura climbed on him with meaningful kisses already. - Now?!!!

\- Why not? Are you in a hurry anywhere? - laughed Jura.

\- No, it's you who are in a hurry ... I mean, - he added, seeing how Yura’s face was changing, - this is your first time ... I want it to be special, understand? No one should disturb .us..

\- No one will come if you are talking about this.

\- I am not talking about this. I mean that I want it to be more romantic, okay?

\- Okay, - Yura sighed, clearly upset.

\- I really want this very much, - Otabek assured him, taking a cute face in his hand habitually, - do not sulk. All will be. And it will be unforgettable.

\- Good. - Yura softened and smiled.

It remained to come up with something special. And make up his mind, just make up his mind.

***

\- Take me, Beck, take me from here!

Denis sounded drunk and somehow frightened. The fact that he called in the middle of the night already seemed strange, and those supplications in general caught Otabek, who saw the tenth dream, by surprise.

\- Where are you? - He croaked, trying to speak in a quieter tone so as not to wake a roommate who would be furious at such insolence. At the beginning of the school year, they were all a little over-inflated.

\- I don’t know, I don’t have a wallet. I can’t call a taxi ... Beck ... I’m somewhere on Ligovsky, it seems.

\- Far from the station? - Altin was already putting on his jeans. - Come on, Denis, concentrate.

\- No, not far, it seems, - he groaned. - I miss you so much, - he whimpered. - So miss ... I can not anyone ... I do not want anyone. Be-e-ka. Fuck, Beck ...

\- I miss you too, Dan. Let’s try to get to the “Gallery”, and I will pick you up, will I? My bike has been repaired recently....

\- I want to forget you, but it doesn’t work out, - Denis, it seems, did not listen to him at all. - As I imagine you with him, I want to kick from the bridge! Naturally. If I could, I would beat his face, but, shit - I can’t. Although, maybe as in the "Fight Club"? Have you watched “Fight Club”, Beck? I watcheded, of course. It is a masterpiece.

Otabek was already walking down the threshold, listening to Denis’s drunken delirium and hoped that he would have time before the guy did anything stupid.

\- Do you know where I was? - He burst out laughing. - At some orgy, seriously. I wanted ... not just to sleep with someone so that he would feel bad. I wanted to make the most of it. But nothing happened, count up?! Count how I ... fucking! I love you! I, mother-fucker, love you, Otabek Altin!

\- Denis, - the heart was pounding likonee crazy. Dan was totally inadequate, ready for very, very stupid things. - I will be right back. I need to disconnect. Not for long, okay? Wait for me at the Gallery. Please, ok, Dan?

\- I wake up with only one thought, - no, Denis did not listen to him at all. As, you don’t get to anyone, - he laughed painfully, and everything turned colder inside Otabek. - And I don’t know how is it best to kill you or myself, eh, Beck? What will you say?

\- I'll be right there. Wait. We'll figure it out, - he tried to sound as convincing as possible.

Altin rushed so that a little more, and Denis's doubts whom to “kill” would have disappeared by themselves. He arrived safe and sound miraculously.

Dan showed up on the thresholds of the Gallery, still drunk and smeared with some dirt. One could only guess what kind of orgies he went to. The phone was lying next to him. Maxim was playing from it. The girl was singing a tearful song about love. Blood could have flowed from Altin’s ears if it weren’t for more important problems.

\- Well, what have you done, Denis? - He sighed, sitting down beside him. – You’ve scared me to death!

\- Are you worried? - The guy grinned.

\- Why shouldn't I? Nothing has changed for me. I still love you. And I will never stop.

\- Well, yes, for sure. Why, - he grunted, spitting. - So hanging out with THIS?

\- I always hung out with THIS, - Otabek reminded. - And I always felt the same for him as for you.”

Although that was not entirely true. He always felt different feelings for them, but those were the verges of one big, common thing. Dan had no need to know such details.

\- Have you already made love? - Denis carefully stared at him and now did not look so drunk.

\- Not.

\- And what are you waiting for? He does not give, ah-ah-ah!

\- Well, this is our business with him, don’t yours? - Snapped Otabek.

\- Probably, you go crazy from not fucking, don’t you? - Denis continued to laugh unhealthily.

I'm really going crazy. And not from unfucking, but from you. You two, inadequate morons. In passing, there was a desire to send both of them to hell. But, of course, Otabek did not want it. He was just tired.

\- Want to help me with this? - He snapped.

\- Not. But Yurka, probably, would be enraged, - Denis smiled predatoryly. - And you would not refuse, would you?

\- Why should I refuse? - Otabek continued to bend his line. - What is it about having sex with your loved one?

\- Yes, you're really stubborn! - Who else is stubborn here! - Take me home, Beck. Will you take?

Otabek nodded. Denis had never ridden with him as a passenger. To Yura’s shy, but sensual hugs from behind, he was used to. Denis’s tough and domineering ones were new.

When they got to the Plisetskys’s house, Denis did not rush and get off the motorcycle. He took off his helmet and was waiting for something. Having decided that the conversation was not over, Beck also took off his helmet and looked questioningly at the guy.

\- Do you really love him?

\- Yes.

\- And me? - He sounded clearly more pitiful than he wanted.

\- Yes!

\- And you think this to be normal? - He fidgeted on his seat and cringed, began to seem smaller than he actually was.

There was a real leaf fall in the street. The wind was tearing leaves from trees and throwing them in their faces. Denis froze. Otabek also cringed. Still, it was the middle of September. The nights are cold and not conducive to frank conversations at all.

\- No, I do not think this is normal, - Altin finally said. - You have a split personality, man! How can it be okay with you?! You are a fucking freak, you don’t know? No fucking, oh, not normal! - Otabek suddenly burst out. He never spoke to any of them in that tone. Never said such things. Always treated them with understanding and delicacy. Spared their feelings. And who will spare him? - You are both fucked and bruised all over your head, - he continued screaming, not paying attention that Plisetskiy's jaw was about to fall off in surprise, - especially you. You/ve fucked me with your kookies. And you, and Yura, and your whole family! I hate the day I met you, I hate myself for not fucking you in the first second! I hate, Dan! All this fucking situation with every cell of your fucking body! But this does not negate the fact that I fucking love you. I love you when you call yourself Denis and make yourself a fucking gopnik, and then when you respond to Yura, falling into the mode of impassability! I love it all, fuck your mother, to you it’s not clear, you/re idiot ?!

\- Wow, - said Denis. - It…

\- I'm sorry, - Otabek whispered, regretting every word. Why did he not keep quiet? He is the fucking master of self-control. - I shouldn't have yelled at you ... sorry, - he repeated doomed.

\- Let's come into the house, Beck, - said Denis. - It's cold here.

\- Into the house? Have we not parted?

\- No, man. It’s impossible to part with you.

\- Speak, damn it, more specifically! I don’t understand you!!! - Altin was furious again.

\- You're fucking crazy when you're crazy, Beck, - Dan laughed. - Just sexy.

\- Denis, damn it! - Otabek threw his helmet on the dried grass and kicked the motorcycle. Now he will kill someone.

\- What?! - Now it was his turn to get annoyed. - What is not clear? I can’t live without you! Want Yura ... both of us ... okay, - he waved.

\- Are you serious now? - fucked Altin.

\- Does it look like I'm joking? - He flashed his eyes and finally jumped off the motorcycle. - Are you going or not? - Denis shouted to hanging Otabek. - Until I’ve changed my mind, - he muttered under his breath.

Otabek caught up with him already on the threshold. He turned the boy to himself and kissed as he had long wanted - hard and rude. How furious! How infuriates, I hate! And I love. Love you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:  
My brain got inflamed. I moved with them. Ku-ku.
> 
> P.S. I do not pretend to be reliable. After all, it's a fan fiction, and I'm not a psychologist at all.


	8. Chapter 8

Everything should have been fine, but it shouldn’t. Although, of course, it got much better than before. Having resumed relations with Denis, Otabek received the missing element of the puzzle, but nothing came together in a single picture. Both Yura and Dan now knew everything about each other and endured it stoically, but neither one nor the other normally managed to hide the annoyance. From time to time, Altin suffered Denis’s tantrums, then Yura’s attacks of melancholy depression. And in their eyes one could read the same thing: "I know that you are cheating on me, but I love you so much that I will put up with it."

All of that could not but affect Otabek’s mood. He often began to break down on friends or students. Freshmen generally shied away from him. When he replaced teachers and taught at the lessons, students were ready to be baptized, if only that non-Russian devil had not let down all of them. Even Gosha began to make comments to Beck, saying, well, easier, dude. It didn’t work out easier. How can it be easier when your beloved one ... both of your beloved ones suffer because of you?! And although in the traditional sense Otabek did nothing wrong, but in both Plisetskys’ mind he ... cheated. That, for sure, was terribly painful and insulting. And Beck least of all in the world wanted them to be hurt. Especially because of him.

\- As I understand it, - Yura started from the doorway, as soon as Altin only appeared at their house, - now that you are sleeping with him, I am not so interesting to you, am I?

There was no poppy dew in Otabek’s stomach. The first two pairs of lessons he was a diligent student, answering at the seminar. During the third one he was the teacher at the seminar. The fourth one should not have been, but Valentina Sergeyevna, the head of the department, gave Beck a stack of tests for verification. So the guy got free after almost the fifth one. Yura had already bombarded him with sms, so Altin did not call in the hostel and lose time, but rushed right away to him. And, hello.

\- May I at least have tea, - Otabek prayed, looking at mocking Yura.

\- Beka, when will we do this? - He exclaimed desperately. - You don't want me anymore, do you?

Otabek crashed on a chair. He laid his head on the table and covered it with his hands. How he’s been fucked up! At that pace, he would not last until the New Year. And so already all the jeans fell off. Those two would drink all the juices from him. And Otabek would either die of nervous exhaustion, or kill someone. And God forbid that it was not Plisetskiy.

\- Sorry, you're hungry, - Beck heard over his ear. Yura almost weightlessly stroked his back.

\- Not anymore, - Otabek wheezed, not raising his drowsy head.

\- Sorry, please, that I’ve attacked you, Beka, - squeaked Yura. - I just ... I'm sorry ... I'll feed you now.”

He really didn’t want to eat, but the appetite came with eating, so in the process his mood got a little better. Yura “turned off” the bitch and had an easy conversation, asked about the university and plans for the weekend and told that they were asked to read the whole mountain of books of Silver Age literature.

\- And they are not just Bloc’s poems there, - he complained. – And there are also all sorts of journalistic articles. About the revolution. I do not like this topic.

\- Let’s do this weekend, - said Otabek, clearly interested in a completely different revolution. - There is one wonderful place on the outskirts. With a fireplace... It’s beautiful there, and a friend of mine has given me the keys for the whole month. So ... if you are not this weekend, then we’ll be able to do it next ones. Or ... well, you’ve got the point.

\- It's like you are doing me a favor.

\- You know that this is not so, Yura!

\- OK, Ok. As you say. This weekend. If I will be not Denis… Agreed.

***

\- So for him you prepare candles and wine, but you can fuck me in the club's toilet anyway! - Denis yelled at the whole department.

\- We’ve never had sex at the club, - muttered Otabek, being glad that he was doing shopping far from those places where he was known. The stranger's disapproving glance was enough.

\- Yes. This needs to be fixed, - Dan smiled, twirling incense sticks in his hands. - And still, this is not fair! - He threw the box back on the shelf. - Don't you think so?

\- Haven't you said that all of these musi-pusi is not for you? - Otabek raised his eyebrows. - That you hate "romance-fucking.

\- I hate it, - Denis muttered, turning away. - But you could have gone shopping without me. It is not necessary to demonstrate so clearly that in the near future you will be fucking with another guy by candlelight!

\- With the same guy. And I have no other time. I am always with one of you!

That was true. Otabek almost did not appear in the hostel, now remaining in Lomonosovo even on weekdays. Almost all of his clothes migrated to the Plisetskys. And they were wallowing in different rooms, which was a little annoying, because the guys flatly refused to choose one. But Beck had to drag his textbooks back and forth.

\- With the same body, - Denis recalled. - But with a different guy.

\- You’ve agreed to that, Denis. And he’s agreed. So stop it!

\- Have I had a choice?

\- Do I have it? I don’t really like it either, believe me!

\- Not noticeable, - he grumbled, inspecting the shopping cart for a romantic evening. - If he does not “turn on” by the weekend, then you will not take me there? And if I "turn on" in the process? What then? You’ll stop everything in the middle or what?

\- I DO NOT. I KNOW.

\- You're sexy when you’re getting angry!

\- So you're trying to piss me off, Dan? Not necessary. I’m so sick of all this.

Denis said nothing, and they went to the checkout.

Otabek began to think about asking for Nikiforov’s help seriously. He needed to talk with someone, and Sarah was no longer enough. A friend tried to support, but it did not help. Beck went crazy more and more, slept badly and was constantly on the platoon. That romantic evening was necessary rather for him than for Yura. Or Dan. In fact, Altin himself didn’t care with who of the Plisetskys he would be there. The main thing was that they would stop spoiling his mood.

On Friday, Beck fell asleep with Dan and decided that if he woke up also with him, then Dan would get candles and wine. And even let Yura crash all over. Well, then. They had had everything like that. But he woke up with Yura, feeling relieved. So let it be plan A. Great.

***

In the small cottage that Otabek had been given so kindly it was cold and it smelled of damp. But kindling a fireplace was supposed to improve the situation. The main thing was that they were together, and almost nothing could stop them from having a great weekend. While Otabek was dealing with the supply of heat, Yura was mastering the electric stove. All the food that they had brought with them could be heated in the microwave. But it was not there. Nevertheless there was a stove. Only they would have to turn it on somehow.

\- How is it going? - Beck inquired, making a fire.

\- Fine, I’ve figured it out!

In the house, the kitchen area was not separated from the living room. Something like a divider was a sofa, dividing the room into two parts. There was not much furniture, but there was everything basic there. On the second floor there were two bedrooms, but Altin did not plan to go up there. It was unlikely that they would warm the whole house so well. They would sleep on the sofa next to the fireplace. It was very romantic.

\- Damn, the network does not catch, - Yura complained. - We‘ve been left without music ...

\- And here it is, - Otabek announced, feeling that for the first time in a long time he was able to relax truly. – I’ve takin the speaker and downloaded all your favorite music onto a flash drive.

\- You are a miracle, - Yura’s shone. - I love you.

\- I love you too.

The shower stall worked poorly. The water was either boiling water or ice one. Altin was the first to take an extreme shower, therefore, to Yura’s return he slightly recovered. Plisetskiy didn’t get a tooth on his tooth, so Beck first wrapped him in a blanket and sat the boy on a sofa, which he’d moved closer to the fireplace.

\- Drink, - he commanded, giving shaking Yura a mug of warmed wine. They did not have glasses. But then no one would pay attention to such a trifle. - You need to keep warm.

While Yura was drinking wine, Otabek lit candles. A small room turned into a piece of starry sky. The fire from the fireplace seemed like the huge sun, surrounded by small dancing stars. Beautiful music was playing in the background. The atmosphere was exactly what Altin’d wanted: quiet, romantic, reverent and tender. The flames were reflected in Yura's brilliant eyes. Shadows were dancing on his flushed face. His wet hair, darker than usual, was flowing over the shoulders. And Otebek wanted to touch and touch them. Endlessly.

\- You were right, - Yura said quietly, sticking to the fire. - It's very cool here. It’s a pity that it’s so cold, - he cringed, pulling the plaid up to his nose. - Come to me. It will be warmer.

Warmer is too meager a word. When Otabek climbed up to Yura’s cocoon made from the blanket, it got not just warmer, it got painfully hot. They kissed endlessly, touched each other with their fingers, listened to the beaten heartbeat and breathing.

\- Come on, Beka, please, - Yura whispered, when every millimeter of his body was kissed with hot lips with a touch of raspberry wine in the third round. - I'm not scared. I'm not afraid.

Otabek knew that Yura was not afraid. He himself was afraid, but nothing could be rolled back. It was impossible to stop. Their bodies were already melting with painfully long caress, they wanted more. No, more was almost necessary.

Beka tried to be as gentle and accurate as possible, as patient as possible. He tried to do everything perfectly right, but tears in Yura’s eyes still came out. Altin licked them, ready to drop everything halfway, just so as not to cause pain. He inflicted it every day. Then he really wanted to do without it.

\- Just don’t stop, - Yura prayed, clinging to Otabek’s neck. - Please, Beck. Do not stop. Be mine today.

Altin said “yes” with a sensual kiss, still moving slowly and carefully, feeling blissful bliss with his whole body. It seemed painfully good even to his nails and hair. The nerve endings were being tingled sweetly and reduced even where there should not be any nerve endings.

And then Denis appeared. Beka twitched, and the guy hissed.

\- Hush, Beka, - he whispered. - Just go ahead, please. This is also my first time in such a role.

At first Otabek thought that his whole mood was lost, but Dan reached for his lips. His usually sharp movements were unusually smooth. The kiss came out quivering and gentle, and the border between the two guys began to blur for Beck completely.

He was not sure, maybe it only seemed so because of overabundance of emotions, but at some point they were both there - both Yura and Denis, at the same time. They were moving in unison, choking with soft, hoarse groans, whispering confessions, squeezing his skin to red spots, kissing. Kissing so hot, so desperate. They were giving themselves to him completely, without a trace, they were presenting themselves. They were presenting themselves to him, Otabek, on his terms. They agreed with all his movements, with all his rules and did not regret anything.

Otabek had no idea whose bitten lips he was kissing before falling asleep, to whom “I love you” whispering, who was reciprocating, whom he was hugging and stroking through thee hair, whose body was being pressed so desperately against him. It was not important. It was not important anymore. Nothing else mattered because it was beautiful. And no one else could take it away. That guy would forever remain only his with all his personalities, no matter how hard it would become in the morning. Whatever difficulties they would be faced with.

***

\- Hi, - Beck whispered into the bright top of the boy’s head.

The room was being flooded with light unusual for late autumn from the windows, But it did not get warmer. The fireplace had burned out, the candles had gone out. The naked bodies under the blanket, pressed against each other, were still hot, but Otabek realized that as soon as they emerged from the warm cocoon, they would freeze. Although, he did not want to get out.

The warm guy in his arms moved to one side. Well, where are you, my love. Otabek tried to bring him back, still not waking up to the end, but met resistance, which forced him to come to his senses instantly. Something was wrong.

\- Dude, and who are you? - wheezed (And Beka for the first time could not make out who it was, Denis or Yura) the guy sitting on the bed and pulling a blanket over himself.

Having confused, Otabek slammed his eyes and opened his mouth. The guy, who was neither the usual Yura, nor Denis, just so stunned was looking at him and around as if he was here for the first time.

\- Well, - said Plisetskiy’s unknown version. - And who am I, you know?

\- Um ...

\- Where are we? - The stranger continued to bomb questions.

\- Yura, - breathed Altin out, trying to force himself to think. What the hell is going on? The third ego-personality? Or…. Or is this a "merger"? But what amnesia is it? Should it be so? - Yura, - he repeated, having decided that nevertheless it was an official name and, according to Beck, was more suitable for Plisetskiy. - What do you remember?

\- Yura, - as if he tasted. - This is my name, isn’t? And you? - He asked when Otabek somehow forced himself to nod.

\- You call me Beck, - Altin said, almost crying. - You don't remember anything at all, do you?

\- I don’t know, there’s some kind of mess in my head, - Yura cringed. - And we ... I'm ... a gay, sort of? We ... date or ... well...

\- Date, Yura, date.

\- I see, - he continued to look around. - For a long time?

\- About six months.

\- Wow, - he whistled. - Okay. Okay. So ... I’ll have to get dressed.

The house of cards in their relationship crumbled again. Otabek could not begin to think. He did not know where to start from, how to behave and what to do. So they got dressed. Then he offered Yura tea, once again having explained where the toilet was. And that the water in the shower was either cold or boiling one.

In Plisetskiy’s eyes there really was not a hint of recognition. He was bewildered no less than Beck, probably even more, because Altin had known at least something about him, Yura himself seemed to have fallen from the moon.

\- And in what city are we? - He asked, having washed himself.

\- In St. Petersburg.

\- It's a strange thing, - Yura grimaced. – Well, I know that there is Peter. And I know, for example, how to get to the Kazan Cathedral from anywhere, but ... why I don’t know that I live here. Fuck what's wrong with me, Beck? Is this the first time? I'm nuts, aren’t I? Where are my ... do I have? Fuck! - Well, there, he panicked. And Otabek could understand that.

Altin did not know whether to talk about a split personality right then and scare the guy even more. Therefore, he tried to speak blurry. He said that Yura had a family, to which they would go, only they should collect things. There, they would certainly help him figure it out. Everything would be fine.

\- I'm near, Yura. I love you too. Very much.

But Plisetskiy was not very convinced with those words. He smiled indulgently and put his hands in the pockets of his jeans. For him, Otabek was a completely alien and unfamiliar guy. And it was unbearable.

I don’t need what’s better, return to me how good it was — the only thing Altin wanted while they were silently getting to Lomonosov. To hell with that merger! Let them be two, but those who loved him! Better to endure psychos of both than indifference of that one...


	9. 9

\- Are you okay? - Sarah sat down opposite and took Otabek by the hands. Looked carefully into his eyes.

No, he was not okay. He had not been for a long time.

\- I miss him, - Beka said stifled. It was pointless to hide it from his friend. Like pronouncing the obvious thing out loud. Sara had already known that he missed Yura. - According to both of them. Yes, and that’s all, - he circled the space with his hand.

\- Yeah, your unexpected coming out has surprised even me, - the girl sighed.

\- Like me myself. But how much could I lie?

***

They were in Kazakhstan during all the winter holidays, because in St. Petersburg there was no Plisetskiy, whom Otabek loved, he no longer existed. More precisely, there did not exist Plisetskiy, who loved Otabek.

When Beck brought Yura home, both Nikiforov, and Lilia with Yakov came to the conclusion that yes. This was a merger. The split of personality was no more. There was one, new, original person. As it should be. With features of both, but at the same time different. Yura did not remember anything from what had happened to him before. No people, no events - all over again. He did not like any of his rooms, not one of his clothes. He was much more calmer than Dan and much more active than the first Yura. He really "stuck together", discarding the unnecessary things. Among the unnecessary ones was Altin with his love.

At first it was not clear that that was the end. Everyone hoped that slowly the memory would return, but that did not happen. Then Baranovskaya and her husband took Yura and Mila on vacation to the sea. Lily, having pursed her lips, asked Otabek not to pester the boy. Like, he had been already confused and scared. He needed his family and peace, otherwise he suddenly "split" again. When they arrived, Mila called Beck. She said that everything was fine with them, gradually Yura settled in. He, like Dan, was prickly and sharp, but quick-witted, like Yura. She said that she liked that version of her brother.

\- When can I see him? - Beck asked then.

\- Not yet, - the girl replied blurry. - He's still ...

\- Why don't you let me in to him ?! Is it really going to be worse for him if there is someone nearby who is ready to help and ...

And Babicheva stunned him. It was not they who did not allow it. That was Yura himself. Why? Who would take it apart? Maybe he’s not up to the guys then. Maybe that version just did not appeal to Otabek. Then it didn’t matter.

At home, Beck’s parents tirelessly asked Beck and Sarah when they would finally get married. The girl had laughed off for a long time, because constantly gloomy Otabek simply the ignored annoying questions. And then he broke. He simply could not stand it and the next "when", he replied that he had never got married. Because he was a gay.

\- Forgive me for having throwing this at you like that, - Beka added more calmly, breaking the silence. - This is simple…

And he didn’t finish the phrase. He got up and went into his room, without having waiting for a reaction. And then Sarah came.

They were sitting in his old room, wondering what the verdict would be. Everything was so old and familiar in it: the furniture, the posters on the walls, the bed. And so alien. In his own room, Otabek felt like a guest. And he had no home. He had nothing more.

\- Sarah, can I talk to my son in private? - came the mother’s voice behind her back, having opened the door inaudibly.

Sarah being worried looked at Otabek quickly, whose heart stopped beating, touched his arm finally and left. Mom sat in her place. The face on which it was so difficult to read emotions, Otabek inherited from her. It was completely unclear what she was thinking at the moment.

\- How long has this been with you? - She asked.

\- This is not acquired, Mom, - said Otabek sadly. - I was born that way. Sorry.

She was silent for a moment, gathering her thoughts. Beck felt sorry for her. She was probably disappointed, discouraged, crushed. She and his father had had high hopes for him, which he could not justify. Recently, he had done little at all.

\- Do you have a boyfriend? - She broke the silence.

\- I had. No more, - he finally found the strength to look at his mother’s face. It seemed that nothing had changed in it. She still loved him. Beka knew exactly how it was when it had already gone. When the eyes looking at you with love no longer looked like that. When you became nothing from a loved one. A stranger. A real stranger. An unnecessary one. - Sorry, mommy! Sorry!

\- Well, Beck, - she pressed him to her chest, cradling like a little one. Like before. - I was not ready. This is shocking. It is shocking that I knew my own son so poorly. But this news should change only the one thing - from now on I want to know you better. OK?

\- Is it true? - He sobbed. - And what about dad?

\- And he. Let the time pass, he will think the same. We love you, Otabek. There has been no need to hide for so long.

\- You are not so worried about your secret, are you? - moms are like that. You won’t be able to hide anything from them for a long time. - Why have you broken up?

\- He became a different person. Literally.

And Otabek told everything. He cried, as it was then, in childhood, when his mother was ready to listen to any problems. It turned out she was ready then. It turned out that he still had a house.

His father needed more time. Otabek left, without talking to him, with a feeling of awkwardness. However, half of the weigh had left the soul in Kazakhstan. Even a bit easier.

***

The music was just disgusting. Alcohol was diluted - almost water. The mood was below zero, all according to Easton-Ellis, but Sarah insisted on rest. Spring loomed on the nose, it was necessary to get out of depression and live on. Why the night club in her understanding was a suitable start for a new life, Otabek did not know, but did not ask. He went after his friend, like a calf on a leash, knowing that she was right. The former couldn’t be returned. He just needed to live.

Sarah pulled Otabek onto the dance floor a couple of times. Then he danced with some stranger, simply because he was polite and could not refuse the girl to dance. Neither music, nor alcohol, nor dancing - none of that added the sense of promised rebirth. His soul was still sad and filthy. Altin still missed the two guys whom he had destroyed with his own hands. And nothing helped.

\- Time heals, - said the father, who came a couple of weeks ago.

He had taken it. He had stopped being crazy. He had accepted it. They spent a whole week in St. Petersburg together. At first, the dad bombarded him with provocative questions and teased. Then it passed. And it was almost like before. Only without secrets and lies. Then all the closest ones knew. The rest did not care.

\- I'm going to have a smoke, - Beka told Sarah and headed for the exit.

In fact, he did not want to smoke. He just wanted it to be different from what it was. And, of course, Altin understood that a cigarette was not capable of changing that. But he still gave it a chance.

\- Fuck, fucking lighter! - it thundered behind.

Otabek turned to a familiar, native voice. Yura Plisetskiy, in his own person, struck a lighter vehemently, which in no way wanted to give him any fire. He was not dressed for the weather: torn jeans, a leopard sweatshirt. The hair was shorter than it was, but still long, gathered in a ponytail on the back of the head. Next to him there was Babicheva, who was staring at Beck in all eyes.

Chasing another deja vu from him, Otabek went to swearing Yura and held out matches to him.

\- Oh, wow, I haven’t used matches for a hundred years, thanks, - he muttered, without even raising his eyes.

\- Sometimes they are more reliable, - Otabek repeated the familiar remark. - Hello, Mila.

Finally, Yura raised his eyes and was taken aback. Embarrassed. Deliciously dragged on. Like Denis, as if he was sucking. And his eyes were, like Yura's ones, confused and guilty, but they weere still glowing.

\- Listen, I ...

\- That's fine, Yura. Happy birthday, by the way.

\- Thank you.

Having thrown a “successful rest”, Altin trudged back to the club to tell Sarah that the revival plan had gone by fuck. And they needed to go home. But the girl was nowhere to be found. Otabek sat at a table and poured into himself a glass of beer in one gulp.

\- And I had a good taste, - said Yura, who suddenly flopped across from him. – You are looking great.

\- So are you.

\- Beck, - he called out loudly, shouting over the music. - I'm sorry for my behavior. I had to ... sort things out...

\- Did you succeed?

\- Yes.

\- And?

\- Let's go on a date, shall we? Tomorrow. Can you tomorrow? - He added hastily.

\- No, - snapped Otabek.

\- Oh, - and his just-confident Denis gave way to upset Yura.

It's funny. Still, he is the same. Just better equipped. Two for the price of one. And with amnesia as a bonus. But when was it easy with him?

\- I can right now, - said Otabek. - Let's go on a date right now.

Yura Plisetskiy smiled. Predatory and touching at the same time.

Well, number three. This should not be screwed up.


End file.
